


Element of Surprise

by Passerby



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: M/M, X-men (movies) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-08-29 12:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Passerby/pseuds/Passerby
Summary: Everybody has to make decisions. Decisions that might or might not work out. He wasn’t in a habit of pondering what ifs either way.AKA retelling X-men movies (X1-3) from Pyro's and Bobby's POVs with a little bonus on top.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, my idea is that St. John Allerdyce still has Australian background, he just moved to US with his family when he was a small kid or something. So… just bear with the little mess, please. I love him being “St. John” way too much as to delete half of it from my story.
> 
> Also, I'll deviate a bit from the movies timeline (which is a tangle anyway) in this version (I got two total, don’t panic), which you’ll notice on the transition from X-2 movie to X-3.
> 
> MOST IMPORTANT: I do not own any of the Marvel franchise characters mentioned in the story. I simply wanted to write about them for the pure entertainment purpose. No money is made from this.

* * *

 

 _Greatest thanks to my brother from another mother for bestowing an infectious prompt upon me and all the wretched jokes that accompanied his insightful comments. You've been a great help and an ass at the same time._  
  
_The rest of my gratitude belongs to my dear family who has an immaculate sense for recognizing each highlight and "I saw the light!" moment of my writing, reliably and effectively ruining every single one of them. You've been an invaluable teacher of forced multitasking (which I still fail at spectacularly)._  
  
_Thank you, guys, for harassing me at the most unfortunately-picked times imaginable but standing by me still._  
_Love you._

* * *

 

 

 

St. John Allerdyce was a survivalist. And this might be a very sucky way to begin one's story, but he was nothing but cut-the-crap kind of guy, so go deal.

Where was he again? Ah, yes. Good at the pretend game, he knew how to play tough; easily irked when deprived of a fire source. Bad-tempered, really. All of these stellar qualities went well with him being a realist to the bone. Wrap it up and ship it off.

He wasn't confessing all that out of some twisted delusion of having a chance at redemption, though. Wanting to save his tar-dark soul? No. It was only so that when he says that he's done morally questionable things to pull through, it would be clear that it was no slip up, not a 'few times' kind of deal. He's actually done them more often than not. Not that he counted; just saying. _That_ was what he meant by being a survivalist. That was what this was about.

The main point here? He kept on going. Always found a way. Pushed. Squeezed in. Got his hands dirty. Gritted his teeth. _Whatever_ it took. Morality was overrated where he lived; nobody abided by it anyway, so why should he? He was just a 'misfit' trying to get by, same as the next guy from a broken home.

On the streets and on his own. Making it, no matter the circumstances. That was the source of his pride. He might have turned out brash as a result, distrusting on a good day and suspicious round the clock, but who gave a shit. Certainly not him, not when it kept him alive this whole time.

When the X-men found him, he didn't feel elation; not even relief and he was far from thankful, too. He suspected the worst and he kept on running from them until they corralled him in and got him on their overly flashy and disgustingly impressive jet.

They took him in; full of reassurances that he'll be alright from then on, that he'll be safe now. Who were they to tell him that? Who were they to be so sure about it, to have balls to warrant that? What was the guarantee? Their skin-tight black&yellow spandex? If so, allow him to doubt the empty promise, because those were a sight for sore eyes – literally, just to make them sore.

Everything would work itself out and quite naturally in its usual, wary and solitary way, though (after all, once you lean onto someone, you're only bound to fall sooner or later) – if only they didn't have Bobby Drake on their "team" already.

The guy was way too cheery and overly friendly. Optimistic. An impersonification of a 'Think positive!' attitude, "Not made from concentrate, one hundred percent natural". It was almost like he was shooting for some such ad twenty-four seven. Think about the descriptive adjectives for a straight-laced goody two shoes from suburbs; you name it, he's that.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was dandy.

_Bullshit._

He couldn't stand the guy. The poster boy irritated him; got on his nerves like no one else before. John was way too pragmatic to join this sort of _let's pretend_. But when dear Bobert started cracking, show that not everything was quite so well in his lala land… That's when John took real notice and interest.

You see, he couldn't be arsed to give a flying fuck about some fake looser, but a kid who had his whole life perfectly lined up and sorted only to get "screwed over" by mutation his parents wouldn't take well to? That was John's kind of real that he was willing to interact with.

Sure, Drake was still a sunny boy with majority of views intact and therefore headdesk-ishly naive, but he wasn't all plain "guy next door" (quotation marks because same door actually) anymore. And while John's own personality and stands had been torn down or have crumbled and been rebuilt time and time again, making him into who he was (coincidentally basically the opposite of his roommate), he and the Snowflake there suddenly had a link of communication and it held ever since then. Thus, their companionship begun.

It didn't hurt they both were element-sensitive – that wasn't to say their co-existing was a cakewalk, though. After all, like Ice and Fire, they too were diametrically different. Just a small example to draw a picture here: while Bobby was afraid of his abilities, scared of his element, John felt an undeniable thrill whenever setting free his own; he loved to see fire reign over anything in its way, watch it burn strong.

Ultimately, their mindsets resulted in both of them failing and it was all for the best that they were roommates in the end, because _accidents_.

Reason number two was that they were a good "confidence boost" and "recklessness dampener" ( _whatever_ ) respectively for each other, too. That's what their instructors said, but if anybody asked John what it was for him, he just simply enjoyed coaxing Sub-Zero ("Very funny, you pyromaniac." "C'mon, that was weak. You'll have to do better than that, Ice Cube.") out of his shell, letting his fire frolic with its counter element. Negative and positive of the same, if you wanted to get poetic.

Of course, there was also the aspect of them both being young and as such, hormone-driven, too. He was always open to some serious self-exploring opportunity. Safe environment for that wasn't a given, not for him, and even less so in combination with someone begrudgingly-trustworthy (i.e. with no other agenda hidden behind the forementioned romping between the sheets).

It was nothing; just fooling around – one that was kept secret from their teachers and anyone, really, since Bobby-boy was too chickenshit to admit to a healthy dose of experimenting himself. John couldn't care less; he wasn't the guy's keeper after all.

Until he somehow turned out to be. What was worse? Without him even expecting it. You see, the thing was… he kinda screwed himself over. For all his puffed-up chest and big shoulders about how he was prudent and cautious, he landed himself in a _swamp_ (or moving sand if he'd so chose to rather stay dry; same difference, though) right there. Knee deep and it was only a matter of time until it swallowed him up whole.

It was all the Ice-berk's ("I'm not stupid, John!" "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.") fault. If he wasn't so pure and open and easy to approach – hell, _he_ , approaching _him_ all of his own! – in the first place, John wouldn't have fallen into this trap.

Who was he kidding. He blew it. Big time.

But it was still all good, right? What he meant was, there was no rush or anything. They could simply keep at it the way they had up til now with Ice Ice Bobby none the wiser _and_ everyone chilling, pun intended.

He should have known that he was never meant to have a happy end. Not ever (as if life hadn't showed him enough indications to that already) and definitely not with Snow White on top of that. When had he sunken so low as to think he even could?

_Shame. Shame on you, St. John Allerdyce._

As he was forced to witness and live the changes that wafted in after Rogue's appearance and continued presence, years of evolved camaraderie and any ease connected to it began to shrivel.

He had suddenly more free time on his hands than what he knew what to do with, his subconsciousness developed an almost uncontrollable need for a facepalm _at least_ once per every 24 hour mark, his teeth were bound to rot any day now with the diabetes-inducing teenage romance developing before his eyes and he better man-the-fuck-up right now, because he did not make it this far only to become a sob story.

So, he watched with skeptical interest as Bobby, encouraged by Rogue's supporting words, froze his mother's disgustingly milk-ruined coffee instead. John knew long before they had even opened their mouths, what side Bobby's parents would pick, what their reaction would be. He could not keep his sarcastic thoughts pointed at his roommate from emerging then.

 _Why did you think, all of a sudden, they won't mind? We talked about your bigoted parents so many times… You think that you having a girlfriend like a good,_ normal _teenage boy somehow neutralizes your negative mutant points?_

If not knowing better, John would say Bobby did it on purpose just to fuck with him. Nobody could be that sickeningly foolish after all. And the Drakes? He silently dared them to surprise him; to call their "Art teacher" out on his blatant lie even. To prove him wrong.

Which would be when Wolverine got shot in the head right infront of them. That _did_ surprise him, John will give them that.

An unexpected rush of _everything_ followed right after and with startling clarity.

One too many black eyes.

Sleeping in a cardboard box, freezing (nobody cared).

Broken jaw.

Stealing a pack of matches the first time around – to get to feel at least a bit safe (they were too tricky to operate, to strike with shaking hands, wrong move there _wrong wrong wrong_ ).

Hungry, impotent anger.

Running away.

The breath; foul and heavy with booze.

First fire (pure accident _please!_ ).

His mother on the floor, bleeding (never fighting back; just taking it _run!_ ).

Heavy hands.

Cops chasing him back into slums ( _you'd have to know it here better to catch me, assholes_ ).

Bloodshot bottomless eyes. A vortex about to swallow him up, too.

Events flashing before his mind's eye at random and in no chronological order.

His heart not having a foggiest how to deal with the overabundance of adrenaline that jumped up out of nowhere.

"And the rest of you, on the ground. Now."

He could almost physically feel Wolverine, right before his feet, lifeless.

See Bobby, lying down, obedient.

"Look, kid. I said, on the ground."

Rogue, too; docile.

They can't be serious. Why were they kidding themselves? They were gonna die here.

"We don't want to hurt you, kid."

Really. The fucking cop _just_ shot Wolverine. If they won't protect themselves… They're dead. If he's not gonna do anything now…

He gulped. Palmed his zippo; the warmed-up steel that bit slicker with sweat. Or sick memory?

_C'mon, Pyro, show up. Fight._

In the pit of his stomach, hot magma twisted and curled, warming him up until he could almost sense the licks of unborn fire on his fingertips.

 _There_.

He won't lie down. Not until he's six feet under.

 

 

 

* * *

**A/N:** So I’ve found something of a themesong for EoS I think. If you’re wondering, you can check it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwMG9wlhc84).

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

When he’d chosen The Brotherhood, he knew what he was getting into – well, at least the basics. The life of an insider was far from idyllic, but that wasn’t what John expected or even asked for.

_The Brotherhood of Mutants_ was a radical organization, that was without a question. Any other group John could compare it with were the X-men and those two couldn’t’ve been more different. The Brotherhood went with militaristic type of modus operandi, willing to do “what was necessary”. X-men were basically Greenpeace fellowship attempting to convince everyone to sign peace treaties by appearing non-threatening, whimsically risking their lives and being on their best behavior the rest of the time.

_Neither_ of them was without a dark side.

Sometimes he had to wonder why the world seemed to always take only black or white side, insisting on being such, although in reality, both of those were a great mix of shades of gray. Pretentious liars, all of them.

John had no problem openly admitting that he belonged amongst the darker lot (not anymore, no more hiding); probably the reason why he never fit into the to-be pow pow power rangers’ group of eager students at the mansion.

It was refreshing to find his place here and so easily. He was amongst people who’d grown up through, more or less, the same and therefore the inner rules amongst them were pretty much the ones he knew well already. Made it easy to navigate through and to find his way around many of them without being caught, too. No neat, polite shtick he couldn’t get used to at the prep-school. The Brotherhood was more of a welcoming place to him than the school ever was.

For all the negative portrayal of ‘Magneto’s army’, the place wasn’t all viciousness and bloodthirst or whatever the outsiders had them for. It had its order and a well-functioning system that actually discouraged from infighting. Competitiveness was encouraged, but not the kind that would be to the detriment of the organization.

True, not exactly a breeding ground for everlasting friendships, but that wasn’t what John joined for anyway so, the absence of a “friendly support group” (or even an individual) didn’t raise a wave of sudden regret or anything.

After the Alkali Lake, it was a somewhat downtime for The Brotherhood. The “quiet before storm” Magneto called it, which “would be a waste not to use to their advance”. Cue Magneto’s most loyal, shapeshifting leutenant having been entrusted with his training not much later.

He was to _get better at his art_. However, Mystique made it no secret that she was reluctant to take him up as her student.

“Just train him, my dear. Let him feel what it truly is like to be a mutant with no bounds or shackles on.”

So she did (as simple as that).

Which only brought him back to the observation business; it was only natural. Rubbing two braincells together would be enough to see why. He didn’t know a thing about the woman – anyone here, really, so watching shit was a key point to self-preservation.

So he did ( _as simple as that,_ yes).

While Mystique wasn’t the easiest to start with, it couldn’t go any other way since she was the person he spent the most time with now. Better make it count.

What he learned pretty fast was that she would never go against Magneto’s wishes or commands, but she was also high enough in the foodchain that she felt secure enough to tell her own opinion. He liked the promise of that. That said, even after getting with his facts-hunt as far as he was probably ever gonna get, he would not pretend to understand her – she was an enigma in her own right. But she sure was one not to be messed with, that was a given.

When the shapeshifting menace wasn’t training him, she was out on some “errand” or other or chided (i.e. kicked asses of) those who were challenging the rules here. Which supplied him with at least tidbits about her fighting style. Better than nothing and nothing it would be, because for one reason or another, the woman didn’t spar with him – ever. She was just basically showing him ropes and waited if he’ll climb or fall.

In no time at all, she proved to be a no bullshit kind of woman. Focused and always finishing whatever she started. According to the local grapevine missions included. Good news for his training that; not so much for him. That trickster could change from calm to Fury itself; posed to hateful in a blink of an eye. Yeah, not an ad for fun times. She was fair, though – if offensively.

As for Magneto, he got used to the man being elusive not only to his enemies but also his followers. That was not to say that they never saw him, no. Magneto regularly checked on his footsoldiers and those who were higher up, got to see him in person and even more often since they got called to him whenever he needed them to carry out any of his orders.

That said, the organization’s residents were still more in contact with Mystique. Being second in command turned you into something of a bridge between a leader and the rest fo the merry band. Speaking of.

Considering his own “run-ins” with her and personality preferences, the conclusion couldn’t be anything less than as blunt as the person it was about. Mystique was endearingly unpleasant in his eye, but it was clear that the feeling wasn’t a shared one. Either people seemed to respect Mystique or fear her and keep their mouth shut. As for the other side of the fence, there was no need to even get into that.

Watching her and Magneto interact, her (already noticed but doubted at first) endless loyalty to him came as a honestly dumbfounding factor. Trust, that people like them didn’t give easily or that often at all was passed over almost like a common currency. But that couldn’t be it.

Mystique wasn’t a person who would blindly follow anyone – of that much he was sure. He’d put his hand into fire (or icebucket, whatever) on that one even. Seeing her do it, though, was like being given a cue and he found himself following her example.

She was indirectly telling him how to behave; act and react to certain aspects, how important each of them was in the large scale of things. That wasn’t to say that he mindlessly followed. It was just something he himself could trust to. Not to Magneto. Not to Mystique. But to what showed through between them.

If there was something worth reliance for her, he’ll play it the smartest (and safest) to go with it.

For now.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Saying this came as a surprise would be a grave understatement – which spoke in and of itself.

He always prided himself for being able to plan ahead. In scale of seconds, minutes, days… it didn't matter. You always had to have something to work towards to; to keep you going. John's main mantra demanded lots of tiny little steps, which, in turn, required him staying smart and ahead of the game at all times.

However, forgive him for _this_ particular "slip-up", for no matter what and how much he'd been able to perceive risks and expect or anticipate them in the past, this would never occur to him even as an option – a possibility, not to mention probability.

And now, here he stood, before Magneto, his new safeguard of a future, feeling like offering his own innards to a vulture.

_Are you hungry, o mighty scavenger?_

But calling Magneto a 'scavenger' would be even graver of mistakes, while also ungrateful. Now, John could easily do 'ungrateful' despite all the accommodating understanding he received here. It still wouldn't have changed the fact that the elderly, yet vital mutant didn't have to wait for his enemy to get weak. Magneto wasn't afraid to attack even those at full strength. All he needed was a good opportunity.

Was that better? Did it even matter? What option did _he_ have other than to show his cards and hope for the best?

He hated the word. _Hope_. So pretentious and flimsy. His view on this was pretty simple. You don't get what you won't fight for (teeth and nails included and necessary in some cases); and with no endless source of energy, you gotta pick your fights, too. That was all there was to it, really. _That_ was John's truth. Hope was for the weak.

Now though? He needed safety more than ever; stability. It didn't matter how sick it made him. Why? Because this demanded baring his throat, slap cuffs of compliance on his own hands; pass over his submission, become someone's puppet, truly. All that, all at once to receive one concession. Life loved to drive a hard bargain, but who cared about the bitch. He's not rolling over. Not for _her_ at least.

_Fuck._

The conversation he was currently engaged in, will decide more than a single chat oughed to. Even worse, the exchange was a sick, dangerous game; a play with fire you have no control over once you start it.

"Allow me a slight bit of astonishment at the news, young Pyro. I never quite expected to hear such a thing."

_Like I planned this, old man. Praise the Lord for no telepath in here while at it as well, John, shall you?_

"Just when we accepted and initiated you into the Brotherhood no less." Actually, he's been with them for two months already, but he was far from willing to ruin his chances by correcting Magneto.

"But I concur, truly. Youngsters are full of surprises, indeed. Our kind above anyone else."

Betting on the charismatic mutant that he met on the X-jet to reappear wouldn't be his first choice, but it was the only one he had. Was _Magneto_ going to be the one _to tell him different_ , after all?

"New generation... Time truly does fly." Magneto got up from his steel chair to take a few leisurely steps forward, thoughtful. "Never expected it to happen so soon. Not in such manner, anyway. But then, it only proves that we are the next step in evolution and _homo superior_ is slowly taking its rightful place in the world. The only thing left is to make space for it to be able to bloom and take its natural course."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's not a no." Sharp eyes rested on him again then, "Before I decide on my final answer, you'll have to tell me more than this, Pyro. Will you?"

"Yes." Same sick circle again. Did he see any other way to safely do this? That would be a 'No'.

"The genesis?"

_Shit._

It's not like he didn't expect the question. He just hoped it wouldn't matter. That Magneto would be too busy celebrating the oncoming birth of mutant messiah or whatever his mind would decide to come up with.

He didn't want to think about _before_. It didn't matter. It wasn't supposed to matter. It was supposed to _not_ matter. _Whatever_. One big thick line drawn and that should've been it.

But it wouldn't fade anyway, would it now? It could change Magneto's final decision. For good or bad?

"Pyro?" The tone was clear, though. The man wanted an answer and he wasn't used to be kept waiting. Nor giving second chances. A vague answer wouldn't do either.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-

"Iceman."

The raised eyebrow was mocking him.

 _Does he think I'm so ashamed of it that I wouldn't be capable of admitting_ that _part?_

He had it wrong.

"And me." Magneto would be hard-pressed to get him shamefaced (or anyone on that account, really). It was somewhat reassuring that Magneto couldn't know everything like _someone else_ , though.

His voice was steady when he reiterated:

"The genesis is me and Iceman."

This was the easy part at least.

"I see… Good." Obviously satisfied enough, Magneto absentmindedly let his hand travel over the surface of the smooth metal table on his left, "Two elementals… I wonder if that had something to do with this miraculous… conception. Mengele must be turning in his grave, if only because he won't get to see this."

At that particular comment, John's _stomach_ did the turning and he wasn't even the one of the two of them, who got through concentration camp treatment, who lived to tell the story from his own personal experience. He didn't like history, but he had a knack to remember all the sickos. His mind was a masochist.

"Would he be a problem?"

John was still a bit thrown that, for a second, he thought Magneto was still talking about the crazy Nazi 'doctor'. He thankfully shook that one off soon enough.

_Focus._

"No. No, he doesn't know."

"And how could he, right? My my… What a young god you indeed are, Pyro."

 _How long will I be one? Or 'be' alone? And will the 'miracle' be part of me still? I need_ _that_ _answer._

"Hmm… I cannot spare any of my soldiers from fight, I'm afraid. Each member of The Brotherhood has to prove themselves and help our cause."

_Was that a test? Was it? Was it a question he was supposed to answer or rather keep quiet? Was he- Shut up, John! Let Pyro talk._

"I can fight."

"Even with a child inside you? Won't it be too much of a distraction, _strain_ to you?"

_Was Magneto taken by the idea of the triumph of mutant generation or not? What did he want to hear?_

"I _can_ fight," he firmly repeated, pouring every drop of conviction he had in his body into it.

Magneto gave him a long, assessing look, before calmly agreeing at long last:

"Yes, Pyro, you can."


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

The very moment he realized what's up, he didn't have to wait a single second for his survivalist instinct to kick in.

_Get rid of it._

Even logically, instincts aside, it would be more trouble than it's worth.

_Get rid of it._

He had no reason to keep it, no "bright lit future", no happy, stable family with a house and white picked fence for it to live in.

_Get rid of it._

It was a deathtrap in making.

It was better to choose the easy way out.

The sound that left his mouth back then was an ugly, ugly laugh.

 

 

 

Magneto divulging his condition to the hardass siren only made sense since she was in a position that basically demanded her to throw him around on a daily basis. Looking back, it was probably hell of a luck that she stuck to theory and non-contact parts of the deal so far.

When it happened, Mystique eased up on certain aspects of the training, but that was all. Until she silently handed him what on first sight looked like an underbust corset or something before his next venture out of the Brotherhood's nest.

"Custom made and bulletproof" she said. That still did not rule out the 'corset' part. But as he later on got to find out, the contraption was, in fact, quite comfy and easy to wear and soon enough his new clothing particle upgraded from being _degrading but useful_ to _feeling much better with this on_.

As for Magneto, he had no idea what the man planned in regard to the bun in the oven, but – unbiasedly speaking – there was still more than enough time for any real need of and the man apparently had such opinion, too. So far, it was almost like he never said anything which was as welcomed as it was disconcerting. Mystique kept him on his toes alright (she made him truly, madly and deeply hate surprise attacks), though, so he was far from falling behind in caution.

Throughout all of this, he was presented with many opportunities to betray The Brotherhood. He was also very much aware of the fact that at least half of those were deliberate. He didn't take any of them up. There was no reason to.

 

 

 

It was way too easy to hear those 'All that could've been avoided if you'd used protection.' selfrighteous know-it-alls. The fact that he didn't care shit about those didn't mean he'd pass up an opportunity to throw their "wit" right back at them.

So first of all, what guy would even think about the possibility of ending up pregnant? Huh? Of course, now would be a perfect moment to dig the educational nails deeper, draw the smarty-panty "You should've been careful anyway so as not to risk getting any STDs." ace out of their sleeve.

Look. Saying "practice safe sex" is nice and dandy, but when left without an access to the "safety measures", John felt pretty solid in saying he was not the only one who sinned against that particular commandment.

Now, he wasn't an idiot, okay? He had his stash of condoms alright, but even that was bound to run out. And it had. And when he took a look at his options, choosing what he had sounded like a much better one. A small recap of facts here:

Bobby was like a frigging freshly fallen snow, alright, so on that side of the barricade John was pretty safe and nothing could happen to him. As for the times he himself was with someone, condoms – and the access to them – were never an issue. He wasn't as reckless as majority thought, so there you go for being responsible.

And the other choice he had? He sure as fuck was not gonna go to Dr. Grey and ask her for some.

_We just wanna make some balloon animals for shit and giggles._

Sure.

Knowing the bunch of superheroes, she belonged amongst, Dr. Grey would keep tabs on the condom count and whatnot with Scott patting her shoulder in silent approval. If the guy _did_ actually speak, John would bet it would be something like:

"They are still kids anyway. They have no business having sex so early on."

_That's where you're wrong, Summers. No wonder you're seeing red non-stop with blueballing it hardcore throughout your youth, jackass. Not all of us have such aspirations, though._

Even if he suggested a fieldtrip to Storm, it was only destined to end in shambles. He could see it in his mind's eye clearly:

"How about a fieldtrip?"

"Sure. Where'd you wanna go?"

"Drugstore."

Yeah, so not happening.

With the number of clearances each excursion had to go through before getting the green light, it had real fat chance of being the answer. He actually managed to pilfer a few rubbers on their last trip (after he successfully shook off the leash the faculty members had on them), but nothing to write home about. Not to mention, with how irregularly they ventured outside the walls, that was no way to sustain demands of a teenage body.

And since teachers were yet to leave a basketful of preservatives lying "carelessly" by the main door or the staircase (since a flat-out bold statement was out of question) ... Okay, that would probably fly in a different kind of institution, not school. The fact stood, though.

So, there. Life on mansion wasn't as non-problematic and idyllic as they would have you think.

He took a look around himself now. Dark dingy and cold stone walls, on the borderline of a living space; awfully reminiscent of the feeling one gets from sewers, really (what).

_Gilded cages or sewers…_

Keeping your head above the water was what was truly important. He had his corner here, his place, a well-earned pinch of respect and Mystique as an instructor (take that, Summers!).  A new page in life with a little postscript from its previous chapter. Nothing he couldn't handle.


	5. Chapter 5

 

They were sitting in the back row of the Holy Trinity Church, listening to the man with the "voice of reason". Who would have guessed that on a late Thursday evening stroll, they'd stumble upon a community action meeting. Lucky for them that they weren't humans and therefore could join the local crowd.

 _Really catchy flyer there_ , John thought sarcastically, in truth not impressed at all.

Now honestly, this meeting came about at the best possible time. Magneto was pondering effective and most _bountiful_ ways how to broaden The Brotherhood's ranks for some time already; the news about the mutant cure only played into his cards. Spotting an opportunity, Magneto was far from someone who would let it pass by. No, they were here with intent, not by a coincidence. And he?

For all his critical thoughts about the local mutant community's 'invite', he was intrigued and wondered how this meeting would go about. Even if nothing more was to come off it, it was genuinely interesting to join low-lives again even if consisting of purely mutant masses this time around. And once again, he got confirmed that this was his true playground.

No, the mansion wasn't for him, not really. All the pretty things and stuck-up rules; those were someone else's life. He knew who he was, where he truly belonged. It didn't make him any lesser being, unworthy or undeserving of a better life. He just wasn't a pretentious prick.

Stealing a glance Magneto's way, he'd bet the Brotherhood's leader will make his move soon enough; he had that coldly amused glint in his eyes. And sure enough, his guess didn't even take that long to be fulfilled.

Magneto, finally finding that perfect moment to step in, did so with grandeur that was inherently his and he in turn followed the man like an extension of one body, effectively securing Magneto's place on the proverbial spotlight by walking straight over to the gaunt man that had the dais for himself.

 _Not anymore._ Giving him a warning look, he placed himself next to the 'sensible' sod in case he'd have to step in and stop any attempt of his to get the stage back. It also allowed him to have visual of the whole room, seeing everyone clearly and with no obstructions.

His role here was simple. Be Magneto's personal guard. That being said, he was to stay out of the whole affair unless someone tried to attack Magneto physically or with their abilities outright. Burns of his creation and of any degree were to remain absent until then – Magneto made himself more than clear about that before they even stepped into the church ("It's a discussion, Pyro. As such, things can sometimes get _heated_ , but it doesn't mean we need to overreact."). So he just waited until Magneto said what he came here to say before taking his leave again.

Following right after him, his street upbringing didn't allow him to let his guard down even then – more like _especially_ with his back to the crowd. And as if testing exactly that, there came the challenging words:

"You talk really tough for a guy in a cape."

Not a second later he was face to face with an Asian guy sporting a shorn head and tattoos – way closer than appreciated. Not one to be intimidated, he flicked a handful of fire into existence in a warning.

"Back off." The fire might not be allowed to feast, but it was still a useful and effective instrument of discouraging people from any rash and silly ideas.

Not missing the slight flinch back caused by fear (or possibly respect), the reaction didn't awaken any interest from the element. No challenge was boring after all.

There was no reason to kid himself as to think the guy feared _him_. Acknowledging the power of fire he wielded, sent a thrill through his body all the same, though. That being said, he was far from idiotic as to get carried away by that. He was here to prove himself worthy and capable of _multitasking_ ; he's gonna do the job and goddamn well at that.

Dousing the fire again, he steered away from challenging back, choosing to openly size the guy up instead.

"If you're so proud of being mutant, where's your mark?" A tall, inked Latino chick used the same brash attitude as her predecessor, stopping right infront of Magneto himself. John wasn't worried about that since Magneto could fling or _motivate_ her away by her piercing alone (not to mention her prettily studded collar) any moment he chose to.

"I have been marked once, my dear, and let me assure you no needle shall ever touch my skin again."

"You know who you're talking to?" It was high enough time for these mutants to show some respect. He'd bet Magneto let them get away with all of this only because they were still at the gathering of people that he was hoping to recruit. Makes bad impression when you metal-whip their fellow "Omega" _whatever_.

There must've been some spunk in the gangster wannabe that spoke first after all because all at once sharp needles emerged from his skin.

"Do you?"

_Oh, cute. Like hell I'd be scared of a little hedgehog. Take one step closer and I'll fry you, though._

The protective strike just then wasn't as much for Magneto's safety as it was for his own child's, though. He's grown attached to his little hitchhiker embarrassingly fast and now? Not even two feet were between him and the human-sized needle pillow.

_He must've been his gran's favorite for sure._

John hated _any_ mutant being so close to him as of late. Mystique and Magneto were the only exception and even them rather out of necessity more than anything else. Still, it didn't stop certain… urges in him.

Knowing very well not to look for a fight was one thing; being greatly tempted not to listen was another. He could never force his cocky nature down completely (well, he never really tried), therefore even now, he silently dared the Sleeping Beauty's nightmare impersonified to try something.

There was that familiar thrill in him; he was _itching_ for a fight. His power thrummed just beneath his skin, eager and Sonic the Hedgehog didn't seem inclined to stand down either.

_Come on._

It could've turned into something really dangerous if Magneto hadn't started the process of diffusing the underlying tension with a calm, composed question of his own:

"And what can you do?" Which prompted a whoosh right _between_ him and the overprotective loverboy.

Well, yes, they were here to recruit, not brawl. He forced himself to ease up (at least on the outside) and turned half of his attention to the domina again who reappeared where she started her little whizz-by.

"So, you have talents."

_What a talent you have there, Pyro._

So much like what he told him what felt like ages ago.

_You're a god among insects. Never let anyone tell you different._

Yet not the same.

"That and more. I know you control metal and I know there's eighty-seven mutants in here, none above a class three – other than you two."

You can sense other mutants and their powers?" At her slight nod, Magneto leaned in to her closer

As John heard what he asked the girl next, John's eyes flared with interest as well.

Mystique will be back with them again soon.

Visits to holy places might have something to them after all.


	6. Chapter 6

 

On the very same day that the mutant cure got released and available to the public, Magneto learned where to find Mystique and he promptly went to get her from her imprisonment on wheels.

Seeing the master of disguise alive and well had nothing on her reporting the findings of her mission as if she had never been locked up in the first place. The woman wasn't only unbreakable, but unshakable, too.

"Do we still want to proceed with the gathering's location? It's quite a bit away from the nearest shortcut to the Alcatraz..." Hearing her rough, business-like voice, shouldn't be as soothing or feel like balance of his world had been restored again, but he'll take it.

It wasn't the first time that things got a bit out of his hands; what was important was to be able to roll with the punches, though. In the grand scheme of things, this detail was one big 'Whatever' since they were complete again and they could get back to work.

"Everything's already set in motion, my dear; it would be rude to our guests. No, we'll follow our plan. There's no reason to be concerned about having to change them. What's a bit of travelling in exchange for our victory?"

Confidence was dripping off that statement like there was no tomorrow and yet, it only made him wonder if Magneto truly believed that or if it was one of those times when he spoke mainly for show of competence and strength. It was hard to guess from the man's poker face most of the times.

When the turn came to release the remaining prisoners, he gladly grabbed the roster.

Then it all went to shit.

One moment he was taking the piss out of yet another helmet, the next Mystique was going down.

Magneto called the gun to him before he himself even managed to step infront of her. He did send a surge of gluttonous element in retribution right after, though.

None of it mattered. When he turned back around, Mystique was already human; the change sickeningly fast and over sooner that it had any right to be.

It was chilling to see her so… not right. Almost as if she was disfigured. Coming to think of it, he had never seen her shifted. He _knew_ she could do that, but this whole time, all he encountered was deep blue and sharp yellow.

This wasn't who she was.

_What have they done to her?_

"You saved me." Magneto sounded stunned as well, but he turned away from her all the same.

"Erik?"

Barely a whisper.

A shaky hope.

It made Magneto to turn back around, though. Maybe-

"I'm sorry, my dear. You're not one of us anymore."

That was the first time John really thought Magneto was a monster.

He couldn't believe what he just heard. He and the woman didn't exactly connect, but she was still his teacher. Even more, this was _Mystique_ lying on the floor!

But Magneto only threw the gun to the ground in disgust before walking away with the rest of them.

And he? He stood stuck in place, feeling off.

Then he did what felt like the most insane thing.

Kneeling down beside her, he _told her_ before swiftly getting up on his feet. Out of instinct, he dived for the discarded gun and not a moment too soon either.

"What are you still doing over there, Pyro?" Magneto was apparently ready to leave this place and, hazarding a guess here, probably something silly like headcount made him realize he's one Brotherhood member short.

One, huh.

His heart was still beating like crazy, because none of his actions were anything the brain told it about in advance, no heads up whatsoever. To be fair, his brain wasn't quite informed either.

_Keep going._

Hand rising higher in the air, he showed the weapon. "Might be better to keep it."

"Ah, the evidence of the lies they feed us with. Indeed."

He didn't protest against the deduction, reasoning behind his dawdling.

Reaching out, Magneto gave the "evidence" a silent command.

Pyro didn't fight that either.

Gun landing into Magneto's palm, the man beckoned to him regally.

"Now, come along."

So he did.

Undirected, encompassing rage had flared inside him as shock finally took a backseat. Undirected because while Magneto wouldn't get any brownie points from him for dropping Mystique like that, humans weren't any better. Shooting "mutant cure" (yeah, fuck that) at them, coming up with a way to do that in the first place sure as hell didn't win them any favors.

Mutants were obviously a virus to them. Well, if they were so eager to call them names, how about _humanity_ being the real virus? Huh? Planet got fucked right over under their rule; ecosystems, their precious laws and "morality" and whatnot and nobody held _them_ accountable. They deserve a Judgement day, too!

That's what made the stream froze up.

_Them?_

This is exactly what Magneto wants. _And what he'll get when he'll speak to public about this_ , his matter-of-fact brain supplied.

Decidedly looking forward, he could not _not_ feel his own vicious satisfaction. To an extent. Currently, he was downright resentful, okay, but even at this moment, he knew he had to to stay smart – now more than before.

"Such a shame. She was so beautiful."

There were no safenets. No prompters. Both sides were dangerous; being where he was, didn't change a thing about the fact. All Magneto wanted was a radical change – one worth leaving even your most loyal behind apparently.

One measly mutant, a fire handler dependent on its source?

He was no one. He didn't feel like a god at all. Not when any misstep had the potential to fuck him over.

As they were leaving Mystique and the wreckage of a prisoner transport behind, the familiar half-mocking, half-challenging voice asked:

_What are you made of, St. John Allerdyce?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry X-mas to y'all! To those who do not celebrate this eve, I wish you a peaceful & relaxing day. ;)

 

_Sometimes she led him through the moves and sometimes Mystique meditated and he… he wondered how well that crap worked with oncoming danger. Honestly, he had half a mind to test it. To send a thin rope of barely adolescent flames her way – or light up one loner close to her and wait what would happen. Nothing lethal, not even big. But instead of doing just that, he was in a weird place here._

_He never had a problem testing any of his previous teachers, pushing boundaries. But Mystique was a whole another case and he couldn't bring himself to disturb her._

_"Stop staring."_

_There was his answer anyway._

 

Lying on his cot, head pillowed by one arm while the other rested on his stomach, he stared at the grey, uncompromising ceiling.

Mystique was a vicious hardass, but anyone who'd spend any prolonged period of time with her would see how determined she was to keep safe those close to her heart, willing to do anything for, well, _him_. She was a fighter with a spirit as wild as it was loyal.

Loyal like a faithful dog only to be put down after being of no use anymore.

They both seemed to fall for wrong people – or had about the same wretched taste in men. Close your eyes and pick one.

As he had been standing there, above a frighteningly human Mystique, nobody had called him out on failing to notice the guard who shot her. He hadn't had any guilt trip stirring him into action either (he'd seen damn zilch of what had been coming because of a blind spot). It had been even an ideal opportunity to step up, take Mystique's place or whatever. It was ironic, bordering on surreal, because on a subconscious level he'd known that he was safe – at that point of time.

There had been no need to risk any of this, no reason to _risk it all_.

Thinking that helping Mystique was the most insane thing he could've done back then was true to his past self. Quite clearly, he hadn't even stumbled upon the idea of setting Magneto's cloak on fire, but it didn't change how the decision felt back then. That wasn’t to say he regreted it.

How easy was it for Magneto to basically declare that Mystique 'died'. To go with it; accept it. Move on. She saved Magneto's mutant supreme ass only for the man coldly turn his back on her in response mere seconds after the deal.

While he himself and Mystique weren't exactly the best pals, she earned each bit of his respect while Magneto represented those who were revered for their previous deeds that you didn't even witness yourself.

Look where it got you.

 

 

 

 

 

_Magneto was the first person that told him he's worth something who he actually believed to. Going with 'Pyro' instead of 'John' ever since then wasn't that big of a sacrifice._

 

__

 

The longer he stayed in the Brotherhood after that, the easier he saw through the crusade they were on, saw how meaningless and hollow it was. Who was Magneto doing this for when he was willing to throw even his most trusted lieutenant under the bus? How many of the newly recruited members will see the fruits of it, if it even comes to that? They were either The Brotherhood of misplaced trust or desperation. John refused to be a part of either of those; not really, not for ever.

This wasn't what he wanted for the little stowaway. There wasn't much on offer here, but he had aimed for reaching at least the very basics; solid ground. It hadn't seemed so farfetched an idea when he had taken into account the attitude Magneto'd exercised around Mystique. He thought, all he had to do was paint the tot important to Magneto’s cause, make them important enough to the man. Now, that goal wasn't visible even on the horizon of fucking _hypotheses_.

_Might as well ask for the impossible, Allerdyce._

Everything was suddenly spinning way too fast, way too dangerous and The Brotherhood wasn't a safe place anymore. Well, it never was, not really, but now especially. The white noise of it and anxiety inside him was slowly eating him up.

It wasn't connected to Mystique's "death" alone. He'd even say that it had more to do with each day more pressing, more suffocating weight of being controlled; being someone's pawn. What happened to Mystique was "just" an eye-opening factor that started the chain reaction.

Snorting humorlessly, he tossed a well-used tennis ball against the wall of their so-called meeting room again.

Were they truly that much different, Charles Xavier and Magneto? Two master manipulators playing a game of chess with no other concern than to win their way, no matter the cost. Screw Charles Xavier's "all shall be well" – as long as you fit into his plan – vibe; maybe that was the problem back then, why he didn't fit in; he never fell for that bullshit. Screw Magneto' silver tongue, too.

There was more than enough to come to terms with. His attempts to rid himself of the suspense by blowing shit up in the training hall worked only partially, though, and definitely not as well as he'd wanted or needed. The tension never really left his body and it was only a waiting game as far as he was concerned anyway. He could keep up a pretense alright but in a long run, change was inevitable.

Hearing approaching steps of several people at once, he sent the ball for the last rebound before feeding it to the voracious element called forth from the fireplace nearby, obliterating the thing like it was never there in the first place.

Time for the meeting.

 

__

 

"So what do we do?" They were in the middle of discussing the exact details of how to proceed next, or more precisely Magneto just boasted how he knew that humans "would draw the first blood" and John was more interested in what was gonna happen now.

Yes, his opinion about the man was still not favorable, but he also wanted to get back at humans for turning Mystique against her will and both, merged together, reflected in his tone.

Getting to know as much as possible was important. Therefore, instead of thinking how this meeting could not end soon enough, he was asking questions.

"We use this weapon as a lightning rod to bring countless more to our cause."

No, Magneto didn't care one bit about what happened to Mystique. She did, however, make for an outstanding martyr for his plans. She was more, though; even he knew as much.

"Come, we have an army to build." But nothing was ever that easy, was it? It was then that the news of a class five mutant came and looking at Magneto, he knew exactly who that was.

"Where is she?"

Yeah. He knew.

"Juggernaut, Callisto, Arclight and Quill. You're going with me. I think it's best if you stay this one out, Pyro."

He had half a mind to ask why, to make sure it was only because Magneto wanted his proof of mutant superiority safe, not risking it "ceasing to exist" near that class five mutant – which might very easily happen for all he knew and considering the facts. Class five mutant was more than rare and more than dangerous, he had no illusions about how things could go south very easily there.

With all the newly joined Omegas around and present, though, he'd only sound like someone who wasn't sure of his status here (might as well fling himself off a cliff for all of the same effect would it have). He could not risk that, no matter how true that assumption would be.

Also, getting left behind presented a golden opportunity for something else.  Unplanned, but important.

He gave a simple sharp nod in acknowledgement.

It never hurt to seem more loyal.

There was no stopping the thought that it didn’t exactly win you any favors either.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue the regular update of the story.

 

_She didn't want him for a 'student'. She'd outright refuse to waste time, bother with something that would only slow her down, if it wasn't Magneto's wish. Not mincing her words when making her own assessment of his skills ("He's more controlled and swayed by the fire than the fire is by him."), her stance on the issue was pretty clear by the tone she used alone (you could count on her not to sugarcoat anything, that’s for sure). But he was used to not being up to someone's expectations, too._

_The first lesson was a dealbreaker and both of them must've felt that. He sure did. She showed him what to do and he copied her. Made mistakes. Tried it again. And again. And again again again and again until she showed him another move. She never bothered to correct him._

_Mystique must've been laughing on the inside, enjoying the comedy way too much to make it stop by showing him the right way to do it. At least, that’s what_ he _thought about the whole deal. But either way, the fluid and brazen trickster continued to teach him in the end._

 _Outside the gym, she kept to herself and he never disturbed her unless he had to, so they mostly interacted with each other strictly through trainings. When Mystique started dropping hints of_ meditations _of all things, he nipped that crap right in the bud ("Not exactly my style." "Suit yourself.")._

 _Him detesting the discipline didn't have much to do with hating it for being boring, more with it presenting such a foreign and ungraspable concept to him that he'd sooner chew on grass for supper. Oh,_ and _they were boring._

_It might have felt like he just fucked up right after that particular conversation a bit, but they continued on with their regular lessons after that without a hint of an issue._

 

 

__

 

He couldn't take long, he knew. He'd barely have enough time to stay for an hour and then it was back to The Brotherhood. His stealthy escape took more time than he'd anticipated (not to mention liked), but at least it was a clean job and he won't have anyone on his case the moment he gets back. Preferably even after that.

When he opened the familiar, noticeably banged up door of the flat, the revealed space (as far as he could see, that is) was disappointingly empty. Putting the grocery bag and the travelling one, that was thrown over his shoulder and full of even more supplies, down by the door, he slowly ventured further into the silent emptiness.

The flat wasn't a large one by any means, but it had lots of angles and hidden corners. Fucks you right over when you're looking for someone here. Like he currently was.

Nothing.

Granted, the place was pretty sparse to begin with, but you'd know and recognize the signs of somebody living in a place even in only a partially furnished shithole like this one. An indent where a person had been sitting on a couch. A window which was left open carelessly. The cupboard or cabinet doors slightly ajar. Plates or mugs out; even a single spoon.

He wasn't even going for the outrageously obvious signs like footprints on the floor or boots in the hall. But as much as he looked around, everything looked undisturbed, even covered with a generous layer of dust, still.

Then he spotted the residue, dried-up ring. One caused by a mug that had been placed directly onto the table instead of a coaster and then it was only by a pure muscle memory and quick reflexes that he managed to counter the familiar whoosh of air rushing by his ear.

 

__

 

"What's the flat for?"

He's been sitting on a beat-up couch for the past fifteen minutes (after unpacking all the supplies he'd brought with and busting his "safe" in the wall so that Mystique would have some cash on her – on top of the money he'd hidden around the flat) to appear as nonthreatening as possible. Which, speaking of.

Mystique, in _clothes_ , stood propped up against a wall that was the nearest to a window and in the middle of her worst act of cool he ever saw. Absent blue, no leaning and that right there was a fire escape behind that window; yes, he noticed (and already knew about anyway).

This was weird. Bordering on surreal, honestly. This body was obviously as strange to her as it was for him. But all the same, she was alive.

As sharp as ever, too.

"In case my illegal passanger turned out to be human."

When he had decided to keep the little bugger, way before he even had the "knocked-up" talk with Magneto, he wondered about the probability of them turning out to be mutant. But even by the time that the Moses dialogue came about, there was still no evidence that they would, which only prompted further questioning.

How could Magneto be so certain then that the tot will have powers as well? There was no other reason for the man to allow him to keep it, so how? But then again, maybe the man wasn't, not really, since he was yet to make any public announcement in that regard.

Best case scenario was that they would be, since the alternative was them ending up being 'just human' and Magneto losing ground for whatever he's planning in regard to having a confirmation of them being the next step in evolution. It wasn't hard to guess how that would go over and what it would mean in the long run.

That's what he had thought and taken stock of; what he had reacted to and what led him to continue preparing his furtive escape plan – which brought about and included the flat.

"Are they?" The real question, hidden and unvoiced, was clear.

"Don't know yet."

He didn't avert his eyes, nor could she stare him down. Although far from being capable of predicting how she'll react, the flat was still very there, he'd done what he'd done, and he didn't feel any remorse about it.

Looking at her, this seemed to be it, though.

"We'll head for the woods soon, probably sometime tomorrow." He offered by the way of keeping the conversation going.

"You shouldn't be telling me this."

"Yeah, I shouldn't."

_Whatever._

"I will take him down." The statement didn't count amongst those things that hit you out of the blue – not when there was enough of a reason for it. What _was_ unexpected, however, was the timing. Any person that would take in all of her preemptive moves, would assume she'd go for a heavy defense now. On a second look, though, she probably had a complex plan of procedure how to reach her set objective already.

Mystique might look different, but her tough-as-nails nature was the same, ringing through her every word. "I'll give the information to the government."

This woman sure could shake some serious shit off and go straight for revenge.

Didn't he think about leaving the Brotherhood as soon as possible recently? This was an ideal setup to go for it; a chance to get out. One with the highest probability of ending successful even, considering the person involved. But was it really? He currently had a pretty crappy vantage point to be able to make any kind of solid assessment of situation, least of all an informed one. No matter which one was true, though, a timely warning went a long way.

"Magneto went to check some mutant. One that's class five." Will she still go for it?

"Class five?"

"All I know is that he seems to know _her_. Hard to say if it's a friend or foe, though." Short on facts, there wasn't much to supply her with, but a decisive reply came anyway:

"…It doesn't change anything."

"Superb. If you want a laptop out of me, I have to dissapoint you, though. These are all my reserves," Reserves for _his_ way out, "so you'll have to write your whole _Fuck off_ dissertation on Magneto in an internet café."

"You think I'm not serious?" There was a note of anger infused in her question, but he had no problem setting these particular facts straight.

"I think you're deadly serious." He hadn't spent that much time with her overall, but he sure as hell knew that she was rarely joking – if ever.

"You don't mind? Aren't you gonna tell on me?" She was clearly intrigued by his lack of devotion (that would've eventually screwed him over the same way it did her, hey, who wouldn't want _that_ ). To his defense – screw defense.

"I don't care. All I know is that if you wanna do this, you better work quick. I don't have the foggiest about any future steps of his; no one does." Nobody gave him a reason to have faith in their cause, to remain. Why would he then?

"Just... If you're really gonna do this, be careful, okay? Keep safe." Realizing that sounded way sentimental, he reiterated:

"Die and I'll get you up only to kill you again because these are all the money I managed to scrunch up. You owe me to stay alive now."

Her hackles rising was a sight to behold – and fear. Usually.

This was truly weird.

"I don't like owing people." _Don't we all._

"Well, you better not die then," Checking time, he grabbed his jacket before getting up. Might as well get out before this shit gets any weirder. "I have to go." It wouldn't do to get found out missing either.

Leaving the flat was a strange affair anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you all have been waiting for... (nope, I gotta disappoint all of you who hoped for some 18+ content; not talking about THAT kind of moment)

 

When Magneto came back with Dr. Grey again, John felt an instant urge to be cautious.

She was odd. There was definitely something off about her – not only different, she was… He knew a danger when he saw one. He couldn't point a finger at anything specific, but he trusted his instincts more than facts anyway.

Cue him, keeping his distance and staying as far away from her as possible. It wasn't like Dr. Grey would want to have a chat with him anyway, that was for sure. He'd never been everyone's favorite like Bobby was, so on that side, he was pretty safe.

Magneto wasn't giving any clues as to how was he supposed to act around her either, so John just went with his gut feeling and kept on the move. There were much more important things to stress on about, especially now with all the preparations underway.

What Mystique took care of when still present, he took up in her absence – at least part of it, and even that was more than enough to keep him busy. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Mystique had to have a bunch of doppelgängers at her disposal (if only for necessary various skills) to get shit done in time and it wasn't laziness speaking. He busted some serious ass here, alright. Something always coming up, needing solving, watching over or handling.

"She shouldn't be here with us." Over the time Omegas spent with the Brotherhood, Callisto proved that she knew a thing or two about survival. She wouldn't be so twitchy for nothing. He kept on walking anyway, though, because Magneto did. That wasn't to say he ignored the fact that they both had a hunch of something being up. "Her power is completely unstable."

 _That_ John had no idea about. Alarms going off and all out in his head, he barely managed to keep his disinterested face. It was one thing to find out Dr. Grey was level five mutant (come on, basic math here), it was shitload of difference learning she's _unstable_ (and Callisto wouldn't lie about _that_ ).

Dr. Grey was giving him some serious creeps even before the chick mentioned anything. Having his suspicion confirmed?

Magneto, on the other hand, looked completely unaffected still.

"Only in the wrong hands."

 _Whose are the right one's though? Where did this certainty that his own could keep her balanced come from? Could it be trusted? Where was any proof? Were there_ any _hands that could really do that, hold her back?_

But since they were having this discussion:

"And you trust her? She's one of them." Could _they_ trust her? What was she _exactly_ now anyway? What happened that all of a sudden, she's on their side?

"So were you once." He was fully aware of the possibility that his comment might come back biting him in the ass and was ready with a comeback. Time to assert his allegiance.

"I stuck with you all the way." He needed stronger words than that, though, he could feel it. "Would have killed the professor if you'd given me the chance." There.

The hand on his chest that stopped him from going any further came completely unexpected.

"Charles Xavier did more for mutants than you'll ever know. My single greatest regret is that he had to die for our dream to live."

He couldn't bring himself to even hide his surprise and disbelief. That was the man who coldly turned his back on his right hand. How could Charles Xavier be more important to him than someone who stood by his side and had his back?

 

 

Seeing that familiar face near the Washington Public Health Clinic amongst the protesting crowd caught him unawares and like a hit to solar plexus at that.

 _Fuck_.

Unable to force down his smile, he at least turned it into a cocky one.

_Get your shit together._

"Getting the cure so you can go back home to mommy and daddy?" As if those parents were worth it. No, Bobby was here because of someone else.

He looked… older. Worried sick. Responsibility sure made a number on him. Or was it all the work of his chronic runaway of a girlfriend?

"I'm looking for someone." Bobby stepped closer before remembering to look over to the line of people to actually _have_ a look. _Nice._ The tone gave the answer away, though.

So, it was her.

But even then, knowing what he did, being where they were, how come this moment felt like nothing had changed between them? He had never left, and they were still the two roomies who fooled around. It seriously messed with his head.

Bobby probably didn't notice any of that, so John went with a sure buzzkill for the safety of them both.

"Oh, I get it. Your girlfriend. I figured she'd want the cure. She's pathetic." Temperature dropping was a sure sign of his words having enough of a bite.

 _There we go. One Iceman up._ Bobby was always so damn easy to read. Riling him up? Piece of cake.

He flicked his own fire into existence in an answer to the frozen-up fist.

"Come on, Iceman," _Yeah, like that. That's it._ "Make a move."

He couldn't have the man himself, but he still could have a wildly pumping blood and the thrill of a fight with him. He was eager to get it started; so close…

But Bobby shook his head. He shook his head and _turned his back on him_. A sudden wave of anger, starting up from within his belly and rolling over his body was well on its way to consume him whole, as he shouted over the crowd after him:

"Same old Bobby. Still afraid of a fight!"

He was sent here to wreak havoc? He sure as hell could cause a fiery mayhem!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's some development to the issue from 01/06/19. Just in case, here's a reminder:
> 
> //
> 
> Heya everyone,
> 
> As of yesterday's evening, I'm without a PC (technical issues), therefore any further updates of the story will be delayed. I'm afraid I cannot give you any solid date of when this situation might change, however, I am going batshit crazy without my beloved cablesque companion myself, so rest assured I'm invested in solving the matter ASAP.
> 
> Thank you guys for your understanding and hopefully, see you soon.
> 
> //
> 
> Good news?  
> I got my mighty machine back - in a record time at that as well. In fact, I got it back last Monday and I was like "cool, at least I'll manage to upd-" - at which point I of course went and threw up my very /guts/ and continued to do so for the first half of the week and then I was so weak that I didn't even think about getting my cablesque beloved from the next room.  
> Good news II?  
> I got better & therefore, I can bring you yet another part of the story. But since this is real life, such positive ending to the whole issue would certainly smell of something fishy. So, here, dear readers, let me inform you that my lovely companion proceeds to freeze up still, at random moments (yay) and with no apparent reason to it AND many many times, several times in a row and by a mere work of conformity only in one position (since others were not tested for the safety of us both) mostly does not bother to load up after that without freezing again.
> 
> I'm still working on the solution, but for now, here, please enjoy at least this bit of allerdrake. Thank you for your patience everyone, truly.

 

Magneto was speaking to the gathered, fight-willing mutants and John was fighting hard to keep his thoughts in check because 'Phoenix', nee Dr. Grey stood just about ten feet to his left. Searching through the crowd, face by face, helped heaps as he found out.

He noted as much features and details amongst the crowd as possible. He forced his breathing even. After all, he was only searching for anyone suspicious.

Like a fucking _Wolverine_.

He tried to banish the thought, but as he glanced Phoenix's way, she already had her eyes on the man.

_Did she read that off my mind? Why was he here? Was it- because Dr. Grey was here, of course._

He stopped himself just in time and damn miraculously enough, Phoenix soon took to the woods (along with Wolverine, he noticed) and he could get a breather. The speech ended not long after that and Magneto dissapeared into thin air – or so it seemed – as well.

Bloody hell. Way to behave like a greenie. Just let them slip by without noticing jack all. The forest covered heck of a lot of land here and he had no idea whatsoever where _exactly_ they skulked off to. He took a wild guess, picked one random tree and went in that direction.

It was probably just a case of forbidden lovebirds on a rendezvous since Magneto, as far as he knew, was ignorant of Wolverine's presence, but it paid to not underestimate anything. Like fucking woods and how far they stretched.

_Who would you even join if there was a fight?_

After about a half an hour of fruitless search around the remote edges of the camp, he chose to use the opportunity to regroup himself. Wolverine was a big boy anyway. One that could regenerate from anything it seemed. Come back from dead even.

He remembered one particular instance after Striker's attack. He had really thought the man joined the choir invisible. Now it was almost humorous, however, back then it was anything but.

He held a deep kind of respect for who Wolverine truly was. There weren’t many people who he could say that about and certainly not from the X-men bunch, yet, here we are. Wolverine was strong, and he had a badass vibe like nobody's business, but that wasn't the reason. No.

It takes a thief to catch a thief. John was insignificant next to the man, but they both fought the same war. Wolverine emitted an aura of someone centuries old (without any wiseass bullshit as a bonus) and he _survived all the way_.

And then he had dropped dead. Just like that.

That was the memory. But now he knew better and he’ll _do_ better to get his own shit back together before the big event's up. Because nobody was gonna look out for him.

Time to gear up.

 

 

Alcatraz burned and shrieked. Once the battle begun, there was no space for a single stray thought or loss of concentration. All-or-nothing deal if you ever saw one; that's what the scenery, every breath and every move was.

No matter what side you were on, you had to give your all if you wanted to stay alive. Even those amongst them, who were yet to join the fight could feel it, sense it. _Sniff_ it. It was like an acrid smell attacking your nostrils. Inescapable.

So when his turn came, he set the levitating cars aflame. Metal projectiles, offered up in a twisted imitation of a game, got burned to their cores as he played a good little soldier for once because he didn't want to be one more dead body rotting on this blasted piece of land.

Another car propelled. Another target to hit.

Somewhere along the way, he seemed to have forgotten; naively diving to save someone who he knew jack all about, not minding his business, letting things get out of his hands. Again. Each time he did so, he paid the price and this time was no different. This was the cost. This… "merciful" slaughter with uncertain end.

He got himself here. There was no stepping back now, only pressing forward.

Even through Iceman.

He took in the brand spanking new leathersuit of his opponent.

_Finally allowed onto the playground, are we._

He could've made fun of him, if the guy hadn't brought along a deep sense of maturity with him. Good for him. Both of them forced to grow up faster than their years; might make for an interesting fight at least.

When the freshly initiated X-men didn't dare to get things going even this time around, only standing there in his traditional stubborn-yet-tucked-tail manner, he gave it a go himself, drawing flame to his side. He wasn't in the habit of taking ages before kicking shit off. And off it went.

A mighty torrent of fire shot straight at his opponent. Sending it off with efficient elegance was a must, though; Magneto was strangely adamant on him learning the power of sophisticated intimidation real well.

_"You have to make them watch, unable to tear their eyes from their destruction. Gain fear with every single move you make, young Pyro, and they will not dare to attack you lightly."_

So he did.

Only to be met with an equal level of power, smashing against his own. Now was not the time to pull punches and they both seemed to be aware of that. It also didn’t go amiss that he was still pissed off at him.

He knew what he was supposed to do. Make a show. Make everyone watch their triumph. The Brotherhood ascending, taking its rightful place at the top of the foodchain. This duel was currently the main entertainment here and he was hella conscious of one particular watchful pair of eyes boring into his back.

Leaning into the current, it didn't take long to be able to almost hear the little telltale snaps.

Try as hard as Bobby might, John's fire was melting the ice, tearing through it. The signs were miniscule as of now, progress slow but sure. He could sense it. Sense his element's predominance. Fire had still enough of hunger to spare and sooner or later, it was gonna swallow its adversary up.

John expected more; a much harder fight. Bobby should be able to do better. But then again, it was a long time since they fought each other and as much as he didn't know about Iceman, he himself got hell of a practice under Mystique and Magneto's tutelage.

He saw the weak output of ice infront of him, the unconvincing resistance. Bobby’s _strain_.

Damn, he couldn't kill him.

He had no problem with the idea of _defeating_ him, but, fuck, not killing him. And Magneto won't accept any less.

Fuck. God, _fuck!_

Their powers kept snapping at each other, his fire biting off large mouthfuls of its freezing opponent, no, of its prey and there was nothing, _nothing_ –

_Use your brain. Think!_

Okay, so... there's no way he'd be able to let up without Magneto noticing. X-men were way too fair or _hopeful_ to jump in and safe their buddy's ass, which left him empty handed.

Wait.

No. That was out of question.

No.

_Definitely not._

Keeping the fire stream steady, he watched as it fed on its counter element. He couldn't do _that_. He… he could draw it out like this – not that they had time for that. Who was he kidding, he was grasping at straws here. He knew there was only one option viable.

Doing anything else than going all out full-force was out of question.

_Jesus fuck._

Blasting the heat up, he began shortening the distance between them to accommodate his wretched weakness.

Closer.

Pulse shooting up, heart scratching at his throat. Anger. Anger for what the shitty asshole makes him do it, _unawares_.

Closer.

Bobby on his knees; a silhouette barely seen through the flames.

_Fuckin' fight back, you dumbass! I'm serving you an opportunity on a silver platter here, fuck'ssake!_

Getting close and personal about now…

 _I swear, Iceman, if you fuckin' punch me, it better be to my face_ , he thought as he made his last attempt at pissing off the guy enough to push back. He always knew the magic words after all.

That being said, getting knocked unconscious wasn't part of his plan.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... You don't wanna know. Suffice to say I'm sorry.

 

_He was supposed to fight any incriminating thoughts, but he couldn't remember… Phoenix. But even realizing she was right there, he somehow knew that she couldn't read his thoughts this time around._

_Standing there and listening to Magneto's flowery, yet catchy pre-fight speech and seeing all those mutants cheering along was a high contrast to the Washington and still, all that noise reminded him of his encounter with Bobby anyway._

_This was what he was left with. He'd chosen this. He should be proud of being where he was now – amongst the few that had the honor to stand on the hill with Magneto and Phoenix (props for keeping up the top level of making impression)._

_Instead, he watched all those faces below – mutants who made quite a noise – loud and rebellious, and wondered why nothing was happening. Why? They were here longer than he even expected and this was the best opportunity._

_Did she change her mind?_

_Was this really what awaited him?_

Wait.

_This time around?_

 

He shot up in his bed, feeling disoriented and thrown. Then he realized he was actually on a couch.

"The same one?" A bored, female voice came through the darkness from his left, to be precise from the opposite corner of the room. Rough, but familiar; welcomed for the relief the recognition brought.

With the last reverberations of the past still stubbornly covering his eyes, he threw the covers off with a shaky ( _bloody shaky!_ ) hand. Forcing his tense body to get up, he then proceeded to wrap his head around the present and where he was once again.

"Want some coffee? I want some coffee." Of course that his legs would be unsteady, too; at least his voice was neutral.

Making his way over to the kitchen noodle (impossible to call the cooking space anything else), he flipped the light on. What. Mystique was up anyway.

Speaking of, undeniable plus of having her as a flatmate? She left you the fuck alone. She didn't push – not even after three weeks of repeated wake up calls. This would be just another night of that particular memory reoccurring in his dreams. Not nightmares, not really, since there was nothing really scary in there to-

_Uncertainty._

_Confusion._

Stop.

_A castaway; abandoned in a crowd of strangers, standing on a pinnacle of war._

_Alone._

_Get a fucking grip._

He filled the kettle with water before setting it on the gas stove. They seemed to share a morbid sense of humor, proven especially by this particular kitchen appliance. _There_. His mind finally switched onto a safer topic as he lighted the fire underneath with a single snap of a finger.

This was pretty much the only abnormal outward change brought about by his 'condition' – he was capable of creating fire now. Or as Mystique put it, the tiny tot was doing it for him. If that was true, they had a loving relationship down to pat already.

Other than that, there were thankfully no power fluctuations or misbehavior. This flat wasn't much but burning it down wasn't on John's list of what needed to be done either. Third in a row; that was the number of their current place in line of apartments that they already moved through. The hideout John pointed Mystique to after she got turned was the first and also the one John basically crawled back to after the Alcatraz. They kept on the move ever since then.

Mystique managed to secure her own savings while mutantkind versus humanity’s short war had been still raging. Apparently, it took more time to get to than a rundown flat with a bit of extra cash squirreled away inside a wall. John could understand that; over the years you develop much safer and intricate ways to secure your getaway plan. But it all worked out for them in the end, so no harm done.

"What would you do if somebody took up the flat already?" Mystique once asked him.

 

_"I'd rob the place of course," he snorted, before divulging his true plan of operation in such a case. "I'd get my shit and get the fuck out."_

_Looking out the tiny window by the sink with a view into a dingy street, he half-distractedly marched on with his answer._

_"Make their heads spin and minds boggle at the mystery of having_ _a fucking hole in the wall and all their shit intact." Then, it took him much longer to admit almost in an enigmatic way: "I knew the flat was still empty. Wouldn't sent you here otherwise."_

 

Filling himself a small cup with long black, he hefted himself up on the kitchen counter before taking a sniff. This was another, undeniable positive, things considered. While willing to limit the dosage, what with him being up the duff, he was glad that he didn't have to give the coffee up altogether. The kid sure loved him, is all he was saying.

Glancing over to Mystique's corner of the room, he saw her staring into the ceiling without a single muscle twitch.

Whatever floats anyone's boat.

That said, he honestly had no idea what the fuck were they doing still together. Mystique had to have much better options what to do than play a patron, minder and meditation guru to him – oh yes, they did the dirty M deed a few times by now. He still wasn't a fan, but he did learn from his past, too.

When he'd been stuck in the Brotherhood that oughed to have its very own set of quotation marks, he didn't know any other way to get rid of the encompassing and full-body-binding tension aside from burning shit up. Attempting meditations didn't even crossed his mind then and even if it did, A) you couldn't exactly wing that sort of thing and B) his past self would most definitely argue that he wasn't _that_ desperate.

Now, however, he would be an utter idiot to choose ignorance and pretend that there's no possibility of a similar situation happening again. He needed to have a reliable source of equilibrium at ready for when shit hits the fan next time. Not that the knowledge made learning the pretzel practice any easier.

Twiddling his thumbs while sitting on his ass like a frikkin' Buddha took up an ungodly amount of time, too, and it felt like it must've cut off half of his lifespan every single damn try. All the more reason for him to go outside and stretch his legs while making use of the time he could still move swiftly enough and glide through the crowds. Yeah, pick-pocketing; good ol' times. Full of memories – and new financial resources. He rather didn't get into anything dirtier so as not to end up in an unnecessary tangle. He wasn't in a position where the risk would be worth it. This had to for now.

If anyone expected him to go and get a job in a bloody supermarket, they were nuts. Just thinking about being stuck in an office, working nine-to-five was close enough to make him vomit a rainbow. Interacting with people nonstop, dealing with snobs and snots alike on a daily basis, packing their shit in a bag? Yeah, not-fuckin'-likely. _Ever_. The place would go down in ashes, that's for sure. He had more experience with shady kind of jobs anyway. Not exactly something you'd write on a job application sheet.

Stealing another glance her way, he took a sip of his gloriously bitter coffee.

He had half a mind to openly ask her. _Don't you have places to be?_ But then again, they were probably both stuck in this weird kind of limbo, not just him. She wasn't _The Mystique_ anymore, after all. Must fling you in a space unknown. It sure as hell was weird seeing her… pink. There was no problem recognizing Mystique in her, but the body was something he was still getting used to. Bet she was too.

So there they were, together and somehow stuck at the hip while – whether he wanted or not – he was the one being helped to.

"I don't like owing to anyone." He hardly had to explain the sudden comment and the knowledge of that was something of a surprisingly reassuring force..

"You better not die then." Honestly.

He snorted in reply.


	12. Chapter 12

So... I'm without my laptop since Thursday. (I use the term PC and laptop interchangeably. I shouldn't, but I do, still) Therefore any further development of EoS will have to wait until further notice since I have no idea when I'll have access to another medium worthy of trying writing on (typing on my phone seriously sucks).

 

I honestly apologize to all the serious readers here.

Thank you for your understanding and hopefully see you all soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh... Hey. Long time no see.

 

_Mystique was a fascinating mutant. If he wasn't gay, he'd tap that. What. She might be older, but that only meant more experience. Anyway, the first time he saw her in action was a pure cinematic experience. Also, downright scary._

_Dexterity of an insane level._

_Razor-sharp focus._

_Pure efficiency at all times._

_She was a weapon. A siren. She was as fluid as water; emitting the air of calm like a motionless surface of a lake while fully capable to turn into a tsunami wave that could kill you in a blink of an eye, any minute._

_She had a zero bullshit tolerance like nobody else, but most of all and above all of this, she was proud of being mutant. Proud of how she looked like – flaunting it in everybody's faces, really. He had to wonder if she's always been like that. Personally, he doubted that, but in her case, he wouldn't put it past being a possibility either. Add in her own brand of romantic strike – a fighter with spirit as wild as it was loyal – and you got a winner. If you were into women, that is._

_He wouldn't pretend to understand her. She was an enigma in her own right. Despite all the character traits and skills noticed and mentioned, there was still much more to her – hidden away. A secret she kept to herself and only her._

_Unknown._

 

__

 

It's been a couple months later when the proverbial kick in the balls came the same way as all such things do. Out of the blue and with hell of an accuracy.

He was just beginning to entertain the thought of a career as a meditation instructor. Seriously, it didn't even sound half bad anymore (sign of madness right there). Under Mystique's tutelage, he had improved more than enough by now to make it work and the practice didn't require much of movement which, as of late, sounded about fan-fucking-tastic. Definitely not a bad idea, that's for sure.

He wasn't even that far along but his body probably didn't get the memo; damned stairs were killing him, because each time he stepped on them, it felt like his balance wasn't only off; it was non-existent. Swear down, he'll make sure the next flat they choose will be on the first floor. At least he could still walk down the street pretty easily.

Which was exactly what he was doing now. Mystique wanted to meet up in the city on the way back from her job. That is, from 'Alisa May's job in _Trask Industries_.

You can take us out of Arcadia, but you cannot take Arcadia out of us. God knows that woman fit the bill. Never say that Mystique could not turn any negative into a positive and wring it out for all its worth. As a mutant, she would be hardly able to work there. As a human? She was truly something else. That being said, still a dangerous game to play.

As he turned a corner to enter a small square where they were supposed to meet, he slid back behind it the very next second, hugging the wall as he recognized the familiar group of people standing there already.

Storm. Peter. Bobby.

Shit.

His heart decided to go for a mad dash right then and there, pulse not that far behind.

_What were they doing here?!_

Well, it was obvious what – not many reasons to stand in a not so frequented area of the city which, just so happened to be on Mystique's way from work. _Yeah_. Speaking of, she wasn't there yet, but she's gonna be. Any minute now.

 _Should come from south_ , his instincts helpfully supplied the only useful information he had.

His eyes jumped to the street in question and sure enough, there she was, and she was yet to notice the danger, having the three wannabe heroes in her blind spot and fuck fuck fuck-

What now? He was only slightly closer to her than they were. Running to her or make an escape route his way? Did they know where they lived?

_Shit, can't risk it._

In a near unison with her highheel making a _clack_ sound on the very border of the square, a big fireball landed at the X-men's feet before a wall of fire rose up one meter further down, separating them from Mystique and what was more, effectively erasing the direct route to her.

" _Run!_ " He shouted as he himself started towards her. With a corner of his eye, he got a glimpse of Storm floating up, Iceman running through the barrier (didn't think that one through, Allerdyce) straight for Mystique and he could clearly hear Peter gearing up while choosing to rather run around. At _him_.

Oh flame.

_C'mon. Bring it._

Kicking up the dust in earnest, he swiftly drew up a mental map of this part of city in his head, reminding himself of all the side streets and shortcuts. He'll need them, very soon. There was no way he'd outrun Colossus without some streetsmarts and as much as he managed to catch those X-rays of Sunshine by surprise and divide their forces, them scattering made it hard to keep track of them in turn, which was so not a good thing.

Meanwhile, Mystique took off her stilettos (he might propose to that no-nonsense woman afterall if they make it out of here alive) and got even more of a head start back the way she came from. Gotta remember he's their designated obstruction annihilator.

Quick look to his right assured him that, yes, he still had Colossus on his back. At least he already gained a bit on his mentor and Iceman thanks to the guy himself who was forcing her to evade ice snares left and right. Which, as could be expected, prompted remaining, regular pedestrians to panic. Those who weren't fast enough as to get the hell out of dodge didn't hesitate to scream and _then_ scram ASAP.

Close enough to be useful now, he returned fire. While not much precise, the unexpected heat on his back did throw Iceman slightly off course.

_Where was Storm?! Where, where-_

He looked up in hope of spotting her, only for a second, before almost physically feeling…

He dodged wildly, automatically slipping into a dingy gap between two buildings, just barely a couple of feet wide. It sported bright light of another street at its end and right then it was the best fuckin' place he ever had the honor of squeezing through.

Not a second later, he heard bricks getting the brunt of Colossus weight behind him when the guy tried to follow. Enough of a proof that he'd obviously moved out of the way at the last possible moment.

Colossus inadvertently losing his momentum by that impact gifted him few precious extra seconds to distance himself from him and make his way out of the narrow space in record time.

Only for his overworked lungs and overheated, sweaty skin to notice it was getting unnaturally windy. A clear indication that Storm wasn't far, although he still didn’t see hide nor hair of that woman.

Catching a sight of Mystique on his right, however, he started to rush over to her. He could clearly hear loud steps picking up behind him, he had no intentions on sticking around and wait for them to catch up.

With all limbs still intact, gaining on Mystique and her own pursuer wasn't that hard, considering she and Iceman were in the middle of a weird stand-off. He watched as she turned behind her to throw one of those dangerously pointed shoes of hers at Iceman, sidestepping a blast of ice mere hairsbreadth after only to swiftly slide over to him. Sweeping Bobby's feet from beneath him, she got a wicked hit in before taking off again.

Just as he reached out with his arm to presumably send a freezing missile her way, she threw the second shoe, her own projectile effectively rendering the opponent out of commission for another few extra seconds. Those things were truly a weaponry in their own right – especially with Mystique's aim.

Few shoe-beats later he finally managed to catch up to her, throwing a few curveballed fire spheres of his own behind them to discourage anyone from pursuit or even to at least slow them down.

Breathing hard now, he wasn't willing to acknowledge Mystique's controlled, regular breathing, thank you very much. Glossing over the fact instead, he laboriously got out:

"Where to?"

"Crowd. And definitely not that way," Her chin indicated the direction right ahead, the one they just started running in and where, not a blink later, a small tornado went for a touchdown. Nothing out of ordinary in the middle of a city.

"Left!" Her voice could be barely heard over the wind, but he still went and-

_\- FUCK!_

That was close.

Getting blocked off by a lightning mere inches away from him was, _shit_ , not as bad as having been struck by it, yeah. Cool.

 _Shit, woman, chill._ _You've got Iceman on your team; chills for free, fuck'sake._

It was only by a sheer miracle that his ability to be sassy survived the experience. Honestly, though, it was more forced than he'd like.

However, the proverbial devil appeared not long after that. Out of thin air – literally, landing an uncomfortably short distance away from them.

Mystique tugged on his arm and he followed, falling back in step with her only to get confronted with the rest of the Xanax squad.

They all stood at an intersection now and man, he'd never yearned for people crowding a place like right now, but instead, it reminded of a setup for a ghosttown here. There wasn't any more time for taking in the scenery, though, because Iceman didn't waste time to go for his revenge.

By sheer miracle, John wasn't too late to shield Mystique from the cold torrent with his own body. Casting a current of power of his own, he didn't have to wait long for response.

So much alike, so reminiscent of a time not that long ago and yet different. Because this time around, John couldn't afford to lose like on Alcatraz.

As his body begun heating up with the prominent use of his power, it got rid of the last remnants of thawing ice on his hoodie as a side effect.

Nobody seemed to be keen on invites today since only a handful of seconds went by before Mystique shouted:

"Your twelve!"

He automatically reached out with his free hand in the pointed-out direction, dividing his element's attention between the two, before even checking. When he did look, it was to spot Colossus obviously stopped in the middle of his charge at him. Taking the sight in, he subconsciously kicked the power output heading the Russian's way up yet another notch.

Giving the musclemass in metal wrapping the same treatment that his teammate got wouldn't be enough. The additional boost wouldn't hold him back forever either, but it'll slow the bodybuilder down. Focusing more on pressure than heat was the key; Colossus couldn't get hurt by fire anyway.

The fact that he faltered a bit on the side that was staving Iceman off wasn't that important; he could take it. As long as he'll keep them away. He just had to do that; slow them down as much as he could while coming up with a plan how to get them out.

Fire blazing, the element demanded more leeway to fight, to defend more effectively. He was far from one not to go with that. Giving fire what it wanted, familiar hunger flared up inside him. Hunger that felt like his own; so much, so _tempting_ , but to give in would mean losing this battle as a whole; he could sense it, feel it in his bones. Been there, done that. No, that won't happen again. Ever.

Concentration and muscles straining to their limit, he called on clarity. With sweat running down his neck in an almost unbearable focus, he pushed through; pushed against forces trying to box him in, determination flaring.

Standing sideways to both Iceman and Colossus with Mystique having his back, he couldn't help but wonder. He shouldn't have _that_ much power to begin with. How–

Then he felt a sudden crack in it, the fire weakening and yeah, he so didn't have this one.

_You had to ask for it, didn't you._

"Pyro?" And just hearing Mystique, it clicked in his brain straight away.

 _Storm_.

He won't be able to hold Iceman and Colossus off for long either; they were slowly but steadily breaking through the heat, getting closer to him.

"Tell me when?" It was half-question, half-something else. Not hope, no. Mere calculation of luck. Because he couldn't live this long, get so far to die now. Hardly now.

No answer came, but it wasn't what he needed anyway. She'll tell him at the right time.

Slicing pain started to gradually shoot up through what felt like every muscle fiber inside his limbs, uncomfortable pressure built up and went through his body with each protracted, crawling second that followed and passed.

He could swear that the crackling of lightning sounded from right behind his ear when-

"Now!"

They both moved at the same time, bodies synchronized almost as one. He away from the line of impact of icy element and Colossus himself, Mystique fluidly to the side while helping to spin him around faster with a firm grasp on his side.

Straight to fireblast Storm in her sternum.

They took off as fast as they could right after that.

No matter, he would recognize that sound anywhere.

Turning around in the middle of his escape run, he fire-blocked an armful of a freezing matter heading his way.

Melted the other one aiming for Mystique. The next one.

There was no time!

The next.

Colossus was lying on the ground, still shaking off the collision with torrent of ice, but Storm was already getting on her feet and-

_Shit!_

He fired a missile that was bound to singe Bobby's shoulder before once again running for it.

Halfway exhausted already; barely capable of following Mystique's steps and figure that disappeared behind the nearest corner mere second ago. His lungs wheezed while his mind single-mindedly urged him to get lost before-

Stumbling as all air left his lungs from a sudden force.

He slowly looked down in shock.

There was an icicle. Firmly embedded in his side. Sticking out of his body.

He was blinking uncomprehendingly, sluggishly at the thing; stuck in place and time. What followed was more of an out of body experience than anything else.

His arms glided down before issuing an order with a simple backward motion. An unmistakable heat from his veins planted a triple lined mock imitation of X on the asphalt behind him, a big-ass fiery obstruction between… them.

His head didn't move, didn't turn; there was no looking back. He did, however, felt the intent and after, the warmth of something sizeable on a fiery scale. Nearby and not unlike a damn half-a-dozen of _bonfires_. He knew what he called forth. He might have not seen it, but he knew.

Then and only then did his body limp after the last person left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I might be an owner of a functioning laptop again (on a trial run currently). And my brother got hospitalized. Again. So I'm sorry that I'm not much cheery or even talkative. But hey, I posted this chapter for you guys in hopes it would bring something good out of the mess. Hope I was right.
> 
>  
> 
> "You can take us out of Arcadia, but you cannot take Arcadia out of us." - Nicholas D. Kokonis, psychologist and author of Arcadia, My Arcadia and Out of Arcadia: The American Odyssey of Angelo Vlahos


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way down we go...
> 
> See the end note for a trigger warning.

 

_Not that long after he arrived to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, as soon as the dust settled, John came to a disappointing conclusion. The school was a bore._

_It might sound fucked up, but he missed the danger of the streets there. It was no wonder then that he soon became the local instigator. A smartass and pain in the ass in one package; "a dick". Whatever that would rub people the wrong way whenever he felt like it. He was purposefully looking for a conflict and it was Bobby and Bobby again who always pulled his ass out of trouble even when John didn't need nor want him to. In turn, he repaid the courtesy with the exact opposite._

 

__

 

 _They became somewhat of a welcoming committee for the new mutants at school. While Bobby was his friendly nice self, John went for the bad boy vibe laced with a bit of show-off himself. They always came up with a new way to greet a newcomer. So, them, "trying to impress" Rogue was perfectly normal and up to standard. Except Bobby was_ smitten _. It didn't take John (and the whole rest of the school) long to realize that._

 

__

 

_If he wanted to practice alibism and pretend innocence, he might have said that Magneto exploited his weakness, his state of mind that day in the X-jet; his easily impressionable teenage mind. All that load of bullshit and fairly easily. However, the truth was way more profound and simple than any of that._

_He's made a choice and that was that._

_No lie, though; he had gotten caught off-guard by the unexpected acknowledgement and even more so, the undivided attention that wasn't faked either. Someone finally seeing him. It's been a long time since anyone looked at him like that._

_He had been still trying to find himself when he and Magneto had the talk; trying to find his place in the suffocating crowd of known, yet distant, diametrically different people. They all might as well be aliens for how it felt being stuck amongst them most of the time. They simply didn't get each other, if he were to put it mildly. So even back then, with the X-jet full, it felt like there was no one there, only more and more oppressing vacuum._

_Why was he there again? How did he fit in? He did not seem to belong, no matter what he tried. Anything he did was wrong. He did not conform to the norm and no wonder – he had his own damn head. Not important to anyone there either. He was just trouble to them – like some kind of infliction; merely to be ignored. That's exactly what he thought before he addressed Magneto – thinking screw it, might as well talk with the bad guys._

_He wanted somebody to notice. To say something. To stop him. But everyone was busy with whatever and he? He found out that the "bad guy" might be the very solution he was looking for. Magneto showed interest in him, without John needing to jump through any hoops first._

_Joining the man wasn't a decision born out of idealistic thoughts. It was just time to move on and there was nowhere else to go. Admittedly, it didn't hurt that the man saw worth in him, even if probably only that bit which could be useful to his cause. John could live with that, though. Not the worst odds he'd made do with._

__

 

It took hell of a bitching and being overall nuisance to make the woman finally let him see and treat her injury. Turns out that while Mystique successfully avoided getting turned into a damn fine ice block, her dominant arm didn't escape the brunt of the freezing attacks unscathed. Considering the amount of arctic power thrown her way, it was still pretty admirable that her arm suffered only from a second-degree frostbite with only one small area looking well on a border to third. It did render the limb rather useless in such a state, but all in all, still good score in his books.

His side hurt like a motherfucker, but it wasn't like he could actually properly reach it himself (definitely not the point of entry, that's for sure), so he just gritted his teeth and concentrated on the current issue at hand. Mystique must've been well aware of the fact, too, because in exchange for his careful warming-up of her hand until it looked good again, she had sewn his gaping side back together.

It would be much better if the icicle had been sealing the wound until they could switch their attention and efforts to it, but even after he dropped his body temperature to the lowest degree possible, it took next to no time for it to melt.

Once he successfully annoyed her into agreeing to the much needed damage control, neither of them said a word through the whole ordeal. It was that strange kind of mutually agreed-upon and preferred silence. Neither of them was really into the idea of small talk, what with her being… her and him clenching his teeth while mentally listing off shit that would make sailors blush. He pointedly refused to think about anything else than the pain, anything much more terrifying than the bloody peephole in his side, with determination only that stubborn-ass survivalist side of him was capable of.

Couple pain meds later (for both of them), he was a proud owner of orderly lined stitches and after grabbing a premade snack each, a unanimous, equally silent decision was made to just hit the sack and call it a day. Or at least he thought so.

"Why did you help me back then really?" As recent as their run-in with the X-men was, there was no doubt that she wasn't talking about that. There weren't that many times she could be speaking about either. Honestly, he could rather save the plural, so it wasn't hard to figure out what was she talking about. It was a safe topic, too.

"I respect you." The truth. Simple. From a corner of his eye, he could see she appeared to believe him, accepting the fact without a hitch. But it hadn't been all there was to his seeming brush with madness on that busted prison on wheels either, was it. And she seemed to know it, too.

He never had a problem to voice exactly what he thought of anyone or anything (unless it would land him in such deep shit he wouldn't be able to get out of – he wasn't an idiot), but somehow, he found himself having trouble finding words good enough; give his reasons a proper form, one in which they would be clear and easy to understand. His brain activity was currently showing a very impressive flatline, he was awfully tired and the painkillers didn't help any in his search for clarity either, so he just went with the thoughts that skipped right over his tongue.

"There are things... Somebody kicking the bucket for having been dealt bad cards. Drunken assholes living well into their 80's while young kid gets cancer." It took him a moment to continue.

"You were supposed to be done after that transport." Die even? No. She would have survived. She was a fighter; a soldier with an unbreakable spirit, that's who she was. Maybe the process would be harder, but she would pull through. Most definitely. Probably. "You were to get screwed over by life." There. More spot on.

"When I found out about the tot…" _What? Where did that came from? Too much information, fuck._ His brain backpedaled so fast that he drew a blank when it made a full stop. The silence didn't last as long as the last time, though, since he was urged to cover up his fuckup as fast as possible.

"Life is a player. Full of tricks and 'I don't give a fuck's. Always trying to pull one over you until you're six feet under." Staring into the darkness around them, he lethargically listened to the sounds of cars passing by their street, not really taking any of it in and in no hurry to finish his rambling. The pills he took were a disappointing mediocre, but apparently still good enough to subdue him, blunt some of those sharp edges of his.

Mystique might as well be already gone; having been bored or annoyed with his nonsense already for all the sound she made. Right now, he couldn't care less, though. About anything. Shit was just blank. Pointless staring, aimless talk and a feeling of being stuck in a void surrounding his body. Not mind, though. Because his mind decided to share a fuckin' epiphany of life now.

"What I think is, when life shoves a 'Fuck you' right in your face, you ought to say 'Fuck you, too' right back. Ruin that bitch's plans as much and as often as possible."

"Is that why you decided to keep your child as well?" Her voice effectively cut through the weird nothingness and sharp focus returned to his senses all at once. So fast, in fact, that his head was sent for a good spin.

Shaking the resulting vertigo off, he regained his focus. Hell of a good it did for him.

Turning his head her way, he took in her lying figure and closed eyes before refocusing on the question at hand.

As with everything complicated, there wasn't an easy answer or only one deciding factor. A sentiment-loaded, flimsy photo being one of them wasn't something he wanted to reveal, though. To anyone.

"What can I say? Hell of a stellar parent already." He didn't want to talk about this particular topic – at all. Not when-

"Do you think you're still…?"

Bullseye. No surprise there, not when it came to this woman.

What he tried so hard to avoid thinking about found a way to weasel itself to the surface via Mystique's words anyway, catching up to him with vengeance. Thousands of thin, miniscule prickles materialized inside his chest all at once, each one sliding deep into his flesh with painful ease as he inhaled sharply. Glass shards or a claw ripping into his ribcage sounded like a sweet mercy in comparison just then.

"I don't know." And what was the most nauseating thing about that was how frightened it made him feel.

He could hardly go to a hospital and there was no way of knowing, of finding out here – no such technology handy and no biological signs of anything going or being wrong either, at least as far as he could tell.

When it came to chicks, miscarriage was fairly easy to spot, his mind supplied in a detached, calculative manner. They bled when they weren't supposed to and you just knew something went tits up. Was he to expect the same from his body though? Would it expel the foetus the same way it would if he were a gal or is he to experience a dead child rotting away inside his body with no way out until it'll make him deadly sick, too? Which one would be a bigger torture?

He could still feel the firm bulge in his stomach, but while it might have been comforting in theory, it wasn't like _they_ were moving ( _like they started to do just days ago_ ), so in all factual transparency, they could be dead already with him non the wiser.

The shiver that seized his whole body escaped unnoticed by sheer work of luck (tch) since Mystique had her eyes closed. He double-checked.

They were, most probably. He was constantly tested after all; dared to prove he can pull through and come from the experience stronger. In the large scale of fuck off's that life sent his way, the small bundle of unexpected hiding inside him was just a tiny "obstacle" of no import. The thought of loosing _them_ , though, made him piss-scared all the same. He felt stretched way too thin, way over his limits. And yet, here he was. Somehow still breathing. Somehow still coping although it felt like anything but.

_I should be used to this. Know what to do, how to act._

Instead, sitting there, stiff and unwilling to make even a slightest sort of motion that could make it any worse, he waited.

Their conversation effectively died down after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: inner thoughts about the possibility of a miscarriage (Pyro-style, so no punches pulled)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, nephilim667, it's nice to see you here again.
> 
> Sorry for the hold-up, guys.

 

At the very beginning of their cohabitation, a revelation of an enormous scale hit him hard and fast, altering his view of the universe forever.

Mystique couldn't cook for shit.

Up to that fateful day when he'd found out, it was his firm belief she could do _anything_. Call him crazy but watching her handle whichever issue just came up ingrained that conjecture into his brain. Man, was he wrong.

Any type, form or shape of culinary action was just a big no no. In fact, any such attempt deserved a full-on danger zone sign. So, it was either a canned food, takeaway or him taking one for the team and putting on an apron for the day.

Since they were trying to stay low (even more so now if that was even possible), rotation system was applied. They couldn't very well have a delivery guy over every day, nor could they do groceries often and he sure as _pickles_ wasn't gonna eat non-perishables more than three days in a row if he could help it. So, simple math and _voila_.

While not exactly a favorite past-time of his (he actually didn't care one bit about it), for some incomprehensible reason, cooking stopped any nagging memories.

Sometimes he wished he could cook the shit out of it all.

Sometimes he had to repeat his most basic mantra, which had been apparently starting to falter, fray around the edges without a regular reminder.

_Look ahead. Not behind._

And sometimes… Sometimes he might have been more open to their meditation sessions than before.

 

 

For the duration of the week after the X-men hit them, his whole body had been unable to relax, drawn tight with fearful anticipation and anxiousness both as he and Mystique agreed that if anything were to truly go south, there would be a clear enough sign – or signs – of it in the next few days. When those failed to appear, it was far from soon enough. Instead, his body took its sweet time to show that it was fine after all. And while the wait had been driving him mad, bordering on batshit crazy, the proverbial gifted horse turned out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to him.

Because until that exact point in time, he thought he knew damn well what being terrified out of one’s mind was like. The thought... He honestly thought he knew what fear is. Now, though, he knew he’d had no clue at all. Because being scared for one’s own life seemed like a breeze, a fuckin’ walk in a park next to fearing for someone else.

But they were alright.

 

 

So. He might have swallowed a watermelon. At least he looked it. The change also marked the end of his career of a thief for the foreseeable future but considering that they recently moved to a new location, the missed enriching opportunities were a small, inconsequential price to pay in exchange for the gain. Drawing possible attention to them now, would be a mistake only a beginner would make. Securing safety was no small feat and any action that could jeopardize it now would be a dumb move. Staying hidden without a single twitch, that was how they'll be as safe as they could and were gonna get. Anything else could wait.

Truly, if he was religious, he would be obliged to count his blessings now just for the simple fact that Mystique went along with it. She was a woman of action – mutant or not. Being stuck in one place with no purpose wasn't for her, wasn’t how she rolled. Hiding? Sure. With no agenda going on in the meantime? No way.

And wasn’t that one of those few truths that held in life, he thought amused and completely unsurprised one week later when it seemed the timing for their Copperfield routine was just right after all, because she appeared to be hard at work writing down what she learned throughout her stay at Trask Industries.

After the Xavier's Circus had arrived in town, full of _chilling_ show of _strength_ which nearly rendered one half of their duo _thunderstruck_ , 'Alisa May' didn't return to work. In fact, as soon as they recovered enough from that exciting performance, they skipped town.

But lying low would be a naïve concept to begin with without the device Mystique possessed. She never showed him, but apparently the thing could basically hide you from anything except the five basic human senses as long as you were in its vicinity. It didn't erase one's ability as the Alcatraz kid did (temporary or not), neither did it work as a shield exactly. It just… made you disappear on some, to him unknown, level. No wonder the X-club didn't expect him when they've come for Mystique.

His guess was it had to be something of a mutant nature of its own since after asking why she hadn't used it for infiltration of Trask Industries in her past, Mystique told him she couldn't. Very illuminating, yes, but that was Mystique in a nutshell. She didn't spill her guts just for a nice smile. One would have a higher chance at succeeding with a sharp knife, heck of a lot of skills and shitload of luck to achieve that – and only in the actual gut-spilling anyway.

No matter, what was important was the information, that Charles Xavier ( _alive again_ ) or Callisto or any other similarly gifted mutant could not sniff him out while he was near that thing. Mystique's word on that was good enough for him (and the fact that ever since a certain fiasco no one had knocked on their door).

Being how he was now (fat to the point of reminding of a reversed tortoise), the newly instated house arrest didn't grate on his mind as much as it would normally do. Speaking of, just from the overall perspective, the tot sure was to be born under a lucky star, because the timing and all the tight corners evaded couldn't mean anything but. That wasn't a reason to rest on those proverbial laurels, though.

Waiting until Mystique finished writing the current vomit of text, his question landed in the very midst of the pause in her typing:

"Do you truly think he's done for?" Magneto. Although all kinds of obstacles and setbacks they’ve encountered ever since the Alcatraz, it wasn’t like they – anyone – he could forget about the mastermind. The man that could make metal bend to his will didn’t gain his reputation without being able to support it. For decades. John wasn’t an idiot, so he needed as reliable assessment as it would get. You couldn’t get closer to that than Mystique.

The sound of mechanical rain delayed even longer as Mystique obviously decided to give him her undivided attention, sharp gaze included.

"He lost his power." As calmly and evenly as the words were stated, the unvoiced "but" began taking form.

"Not an answer."

She turned away from him then. Staring at the screen of her laptop, she conceded in a dispassionate voice:

"No. No, he’s not. He won't. Erik Lehnsherr wasn't born to be caged, captured or held in. Just for that, for his past, he'll escape." She started to gently but determinedly abuse her keyboard again just to add a killing blow in a "by-the-way" manner of speech. "And if there's any way to get his power back, he'll find it."

He rather decided to react on the "confined" aspect of information he just got.

"I though he's just watched over in some sort of house for seniors."

"He is. The government keeps close eye on him, though." She didn't bother to look back at him anymore and the artificial, mechanic _click-clack_ of a summer rain turned into a sleet.

_So a prison without actual walls._

No matter, the only effect her admission had was sprouting yet another question.

"Was it worth it then?" If she knew he'll get out… even if it was to be far in the future… Wasn't that too much of a hassle, _danger_ to take? The retaliation was bound to come. Full force. She couldn't have been ignorant of that either.

"Yes."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving Pyro a little break... Well, not really. *packing my shit so as to be ready for my trip to hell when the time comes*

 

It was in their eighth (or ninth?) flat that one Elemental Allerdyce was born. Vocal like her father, that had to be said; but as for the deal itself, John might call himself lucky to have Mystique handy because as much as evolution thought about how to get the bun in the oven, it all forgot about the way out. Far from being squeamish, though, Mystique readily cut him open and they replayed good old Little Red Riding Hood.

_Really. Fuck you, evolution._

Now if everyone would kindly give him a break and let him sleep it off; he was ready to pass out.

The last thing his fading consciousness grasped was a light weight being placed on his chest and then he readily and quite gladly blacked out.

 

 

The first time he actually saw his daughter, he could take in all the finer details. The tuft of blonde hair on top of her head, the almost invisible eyebrows, almost unfairly cure button nose, pouty mouth… It was probably way too soon to be able to tell who she took after appearance-wise and in which aspect of it, but he didn’t mind any of that because none of it really mattered. Because while she was frighteningly small, her healthy set of lungs served as a reliable reminder that she'll be just fine. She was an Allerdyce all right.

 

 

Parenting soon proved to be the bane of sanity.

As loath to admit it as he was, way too often he found himself not knowing where his head was. He'd _love_ to be that "I've got all this sh-stuff already figured out and well in hands while Zen about it" kind of parent, but in his case, the truth was somewhere completely else. Entirely. He wasn't talking _the other side of the globe_. No. He was talking _Neptun_ e.

There was not enough sleep, often times not even the bare minimum, Eli seemed to grow an inch every day ("You're overreacting; it's only every month."), have shouting monologues of a thoroughly disappointed royal and man, if he's never gonna see a diaper ever again after he's done raising his tiny monster, it'll be too early.

But then she'd smile.

And vomit all over him.

Or they'd be both lying belly down on the floor – she with her head curiously up, him having his own simply propped up on his forearms; just watching each other.

Or making faces.

She'd fix his hair with a daring, revolutionary fruit puree styling...substance – "Straight From My Snack-spread To Your Hair" brand.

He would slip on another glob of puree that was mistakenly (or maliciously since _genes_ ) disposed onto the floor.

And she would give a gurgle of laughter.

And he would hold her close.

He wouldn't give it up for anything.

 

 

Mystique took to the presence of a child in their ragtag household surprisingly well. Considering that there was an almost permanently crying child (either in a good way or a bad way) in the flat, Mystique's cool honestly wasn't only awe-inspiring – it was downright foreboding. And how right he was.

She swore that the _slaughter_ that followed the second he told her he wouldn't be averse to picking up where they left off with his training, wasn't influenced by any of the inadvertent mayhem caused by raising a child, but he was no fool. She was exacting her revenge. And as much as he needed to get back in shape (seriously, how _easy_ would X-men have it now), his body was screaming at him that this regime's impossible by the end of the first week.

You'd think that she'd give him at least the courtesy of quick death. He was under no illusion that she couldn't end him (and also his suffering) the very first day. But no, she was taking her sweet time, making it. Painfully. Slow. He felt like dying – except ever reaching the positive after-effect of it.

Then his tempered mind kicked in again, addressing his whole system to work through the worst of it, to get back on his feet. Fitness might be a term which his body was yet to achieve, but now, he had his head back in the game. It oughed to get easier.

It didn't. Whether it was Mystique personally serving his ass to him at hand-to-hand ("Here?" "You can't expect that each time you fight somebody, there'll be an arena handy.") or a struggle at reaching allotted amount of reps given, which equaled him having to start from the scratch again. At least it felt that way. Not even his ability seemed to be on par with what, according to Mystique, it should be. Which, whether it was true or not didn't matter, because it was _Mystique_. Meaning you just do it anyway if you know what's best for you.

He wasn't one to listen to just anyone, but if there was one person who wouldn't bullshit him and make sure he'll stand against the X-men at full strength the next time their paths cross? It was her. It was a new kind of motivation for him, especially with Eli now around, too. That motivation came handy since his condition before the little fire was born basically vetoed any kind of serious sparring, so nowadays, he had to work twice as hard to "catch up".

 

 

Eli was a tiny but overly energetic bundle of joy and he often needed to tire her out somehow. Getting her curious and catching her attention on something solid (so to say) was killing two birds with one stone since without any distraction, she made her discontent very clear. That's why he came up with sort of a game for his daughter in the first place.

As he was sitting right infront of Eli, he called the flame from a nearby candle ( _what_ , she liked them) into his hand and when she grabbed for it, he made the flame skip over onto his other palm, hidden behind his back, while she wondered where did the little flame go.

He switched his hands several times like that, but he made sure to quit it well before the game could stop being fun and wondrous to her; he didn't do it to make her fussy after all. So usually, he let her touch the flame before dousing it with a softly murmured promise of “ _later”_.

Funny observation? Watching him getting his butt kicked obviously amused her enough, too, judging by the fact that most of those times, she was on her best behavior. What can he say. Daughter of her father, with every passing day more and more. She seemed to be entranced by fire the most, still, though.

_Me and you both, tot._

He had come to leaving one small flame close to her when she was falling asleep as well. In fact, learning how to do that (as in create a flame that wouldn't spread while staying lit, untended until he decided otherwise) was probably the smartest and most useful trick he ever learned with the element.

High enough time to figure at least part of this out.


	17. Chapter 17

 

His time with his daughter ran out sooner than it had any right to. Not that life cared.

The "coincidental" run-in with Erik Lehnsherr – or was it Magneto again? – outside a _supermarket_ of all places was anything but. He _had to_ have his powers back. How else would the man know where to find him? Callisto was the only answer to how the man could sniff him out so easily and Callisto hated humans; she wouldn't associate with them no matter who they were before. Why, a perfect fit for each other, those two.

No, Erik Lehnsherr was Magneto again. No matter how he managed to get his ability back, this man was one with his powers again.

And _he_ was screwed. Which was only proven with Magneto's badly disguised recruitment through "only paying visits to my old acquaintances" before dropping the bomb.

"I came to offer you the opportunity to join the Brotherhood again. I must say, it wasn't easy to find you, but I'm willing to spare resources on valuable allies."

_And merciless power on eventual enemies as well for sure._

You don't say _No_ to Magneto. Not in his situation.

"But you must forgive my manners. How's your child?"

_Shit._

He was aware of this meeting being a possibility, something that could – and most probably would – happen sooner or later and all that came with it, but the question still froze the blood in his veins. Which would be an admirable achievement if you applied a bit of humor. Any other time, that is. _Any other time, fuck!_

He took a shaky, deep breath, forcing himself not to shoot off his answer.

"It was stillborn."

_Did he fool him? How much convincing could he truly be? Did it work?_

The moment that followed was charged with tension.

Magneto's brows furrowed.

"I'm sorry to hear that." And he actually sounded it. Didn't change the fact that it was most certainly for a different reason than a loss of any regular child. But as long as his lie held, he didn't mind that detail one bit. Keeping Eli safe, that was what mattered.            

He gave a curt nod in reply.

Magneto's assessing look following that was a pure trademark thing. Quite a contrast to his eventually chosen approach. Cutting to the chase wasn't one of Magneto's characteristic traits, but he was apparently willing to skip all his smooth-talk if deemed more suitable – more useful. Maybe he thought he's got nothing to lose now. Easier to reel in. Therefore…

"What do you say? Are you with us, Pyro?"

 

 

He would be surprised that the man bothered to find him if it wasn't for Eli. Who was officially dead now – and he'll keep it that way for as long as possible. 'Never' sounded like a great idea, but he wasn't so ignorant as to think he could pull that off. No, he'll be forced to reveal the truth; or the bubble of his lie will pop of its own. One way or another, one day… a month from now, a year? Ten? But then again, maybe by then they’ll be someplace it won't matter. Someplace nobody finds them. Someplace nobody would care.

_Building castles in the air again, Allerdyce? Might do something for it first._

Like appropriating that occluding device Mystique had, grab his daughter and make a run for it (what; she had no use for it anyway). Except he had no idea how it looked like, which would make the stealing a bit hard.

Mystique wouldn't stop fighting for mutants' cause either. _Ever_. That much was plain. Favoring to stay right in the midst of it, in the eye of the storm, mutant or not. Which ruled out the second option. Asking her to leave that for a promise of a life of a recluse somewhere in the woods? Yeah, out before it could even get in.

And the most straightforward approach? They did have a history – if brief – but certainly not one that would afford him any right to ask for something so priceless. So, yeah, he didn't think so. Especially now. Because Magneto getting back his powers brought about one more unknown.

Looking at Mystique, currently sitting on the couch, bent over her legs that were propped on the coffee table and painting her nails, he wondered if she might turn back, too.

She was awaiting that, hoping for it; he could tell. That hope was making her twitchy without actually twitching; vibrating out of her skin. At first, he couldn't pinpoint what exactly was happening, where the slight tension in the air came from. It wasn't like the signs were obvious. In fact, they were imperceptible – something you would overlook easily. He noticed them only because he was an associate of hers for some time now, therefore he knew for a fact that every, no matter how insignificant move she made had a purpose _and_ the air around her, one riddled with tension – any shift in it had its meaning, too.

Ever since he told her about his encounter with Magneto and what was said ("I didn't know there's cure." "There isn't."), she was restless. Not out of worry, he soon realized, no. She was alert, prepared and ready – to welcome her mutation back into her body. She was brimming with nervous energy, but so far, there was no indication of that happening anytime soon. And John was getting worried for more reasons than one now.

Look, just because he had no scruples about potentially robbing her didn't automatically mean he didn't give a fuck.

Anyway, he'll have to join Magneto soon. In a week's time actually. Saying that now sounded like such a short time for… everything. For spending those seven days with Eli. One hundred and sixty-eight hours for securing safety for her. Even if he had more time, though, there wouldn't be more options than the one he came up with. He wasn't a fan of that choice. And what a "choice" it was.

However, Mystique was still a human, therefore not really fit for taking care of his little girl even in case she'd agree (doubtful). Kids had accidents and it was normal. Mutant kids had accidents, too, and it was normal as well. It just needed that extra safeguard – at least in the case of a child with an affinity to a rather violent element. Personal experience. He couldn't very well ask the woman to go to the lion's den with Eli either, though.

His eyes traveled over to Al's tiny form lying bundled on his bed, fast asleep. That still didn't change an ounce about the fact, that Eli _had to_ go there. Would go there. Alone.

Mystique was just finishing her pedicure when his mouth finally opened:

"She has to-"

"I know." Her tone was harsh, almost as if saying "Don't make an idiot out of me". Nothing unusual.

He nodded silently, keeping at it for a bit longer. Just leaning on the wall, hands going for his pockets.

"I'll be joining Magneto soon." He said that just because he had nothing else to fill the silence in, really. Mystique knew about this part, too, no doubt after all.

"He's only using you." She started putting shit she didn't need anymore back into her toiletry bag without any order, not even glancing his way to throw the remark at him properly.

"I know." But did the knowledge of being just a pawn even matter? Magneto or Charles Xavier… This was all just a chess game to them; that's what this reminded him of at least. He says those two should've fucked it out, get rid of the tension, make love not war. It was even fitting for their golden era and Mystique could've gotten her turn in there, too.

Call it a sign or whatever you want to believe in, they should've just done that. Hell, they should get their smart asses back in time (so many mutations and no time turner? – unlikely), get their heads out of said asses and stop dragging everyone down the freaking rabbit hole, would they be so kind. Of course not.

"Do you truly believe that it's the best way to protect her?" The blue eyes were startingly piercing with the intensity of past yellow, but without any real edge to it. Instead, they seemed simply curious.

"How else could I do it better?"

"Join the X-men?"

A lopsided smirk was his answer.

It was a running joke amongst them. When it came to the Team Awesome, neither of them had any inclination or desire to belong amongst the superheroes; no feeling of regret about a ruined opportunity to become one. Because it was nothing even remotely close to what and who they were. But that was enough of that.

_I need to get Eli to safety before I leave._

"I was thinking about paying a visit to Charles Xavier."

Did she read his mind?

"You hate it there." Mystique never told him. She did mention the mansion once or twice in that snarl of hers, however. Mystique didn't want to go back to the mansion – of that, he was damn sure and really, he was far from one to hold it against her or try to make her reconsider.

"Might make it at least a bit interesting." Dry amusement right there with no apprehension whatsoever. At least that's what she projected, what she let him see.

"They tried to get you not that long ago." Was that really such a great idea, her returning to that place?

"That too." That glee of hers looked dangerous. For who he wasn't sure yet, but dangerous, nonetheless.

"You don't have to." He wanted her to. He wanted someone with Eli who he could trust more than to anybody else. X-men were "the side of light", but what happens when people, misled or manipulated most of their lifespan snap when triggered? Yeah, shit hits the fan, that's what.

Xavier's Elitist Mansion was very far from what he wanted for Eli. Safety with no bullshit ideology sucking you in? You'd think that wasn't so much to ask for. But realistically speaking, it was the only passable and possible option. She might not be treasured there, but she'll be kept safe. X-men's politic views might still be laughably idealistic, but one thing was for sure – they protected innocent.

As long as Magneto won't find out about her, it'll be fine. She didn't mean anything to the X-men, she'll be well-hidden in the shadows of unimportance. Just a kid. A kid with early-manifested mutation, but just one of many kids there nonetheless.

Meeting Mystique's still strange, unnaturally blue eyes, he realized there was no real discussion to be had about it at all, of which her next words spoke even clearer:

"Nobody could've made me if I didn't want to myself."

Presented that way, there was no argumenting that.

 

 

Standing by the gates of Xavier's estate, hidden in the shadows of the trees nearby, the place should probably bring up all sorts of memories, but he was way too preoccupied by holding onto his daughter with desperation that only grew with each passing second.

Still sane enough to recognize this as the best option available; that didn't change the fact that every instinct inside him told him to run. Run and hide someplace where nobody would find them. He wasn't sure if he'll be able to let go of her anymore either.

"Think they'll take her in? I mean, will they really keep her? Maybe she's too small-" They went over this quite a few times already before they even left their current flat. Honestly, he was surprised she didn't put a wrench to a good use against his skull already. Maybe that would stop him.

"They'll take her in."

Mystique was strangely agreeable.

_Sure. Nothing to worry about._

"Pyro."

_She was so tiny. She should stay with him!_

"Yeah."

He still didn't let go. He couldn’t make himself pass her over. He should. He knew he should.

"John."

Mystique never called him by his human name.

Somehow, quite miraculously, his fingers started moving, slowly releasing their grip on Eli while at the same time, his mind continued to protest, making unrealistic claims.

He could keep her safe. He'd find a way.

_You already did that, remember? This is it. You finding that way._

Eli was sound asleep. And just watching her, all of a sudden, he felt an all-consuming need to see her eyes for the last time before he leaves… He couldn't wake her up, though. She was always grumpy when somebody did that, he reminded himself with painful warmth filling him.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he took a deep breath. Let Mystique take the most precious thing away from him. One of his hands appeared to be unable to separate from the blanket Eli was swaddled in and when urged, it only slid higher, to touch Eli's cheek.

He shouldn't be this weak. No – he _oughed_ to be stronger, damn it.

_I'll come back for you._

"I'll be back for her."

Mystique humored him, probably only out of pity.

"Make sure you will."

_I will._

He kissed Eli on her forehead before quickly turning around and leaving without a single glance back while the hole in his chest was growing wider and deeper with each step leading him away.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...how did you like this part? Feel free to let me know.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Big thank you goes to nephilim667 for the continued support. You have no idea how powerful motivation it is for me, especially now.

 

Rogue was supposed to be the answer. She was perfect. Sure, a runaway, but considering it seemed to be a running theme for him, the fact held no weight. Rogue wasn’t like the other girls either – well behaved, yes, but also someone who was decisive and rebellious with a self-sufficient streak, too. Soft, but never hesitant when she made up her mind about something; instead, firm and sure in the way he acted.

She wasn’t a typical girl. Not that she was a tomboy – far from it. Her clothing style was enticing more than enough without resorting to a plunging neckline that would show her cleavage. She certainly held enough feminine vibe to make heads turn when she entered the room. But more than that, the said heads turned because of her aura of mysterious and since she kept mostly to herself alright, the trend continued without a hitch, too.

For one, he was lucky that she not only noticed him, but also agreed to date him despite her fear of hurting anyone she touched. There was also the indisputable detail of managing to snatch her right under Wolverine’s nose that could not be ignored. With Rogue being so very obviously smitten with the man, it had to be some heavy luck at work, too. He was willing to ignore any of that, though, as long as she stayed with him – that happy he was. Or at least he thought so.

Her support when he finally told his parents about being mutant, they both trying to work around the whole no-touching business… They had something wonderful going on – before it all burned in ashes as fast as phoenix dying but instead of being reborn, the thing just froze over and never got back warm again.

He thought they had a good handle on the no-touching, that they had it under control. They’ve been working on it and around it at least. Sure, there were some issues, but it wasn’t like they were in a rush. The next thing he knew, Rogue was gone and when she got back, there was only half of her, her not being a mutant anymore. Add in all the deaths that happened in the meanwhile and the rollercoaster that those put them all through and you had a pretty standard, yet hardcore teenage drama on your hands. None of them handled it well. The changes, feelings brought about by that, new responsibilities…

It was like the Alkali lake released a flood of bad, although they managed to escape the real one. Just the deaths alone; he had a hard time accepting them. All of them. It came as a sort of an avalanche. First, it was Dr. Grey. Scott died not long after which hit him especially hard since Cyclops had always been a role-model to him on top of being close to an older brother to him; someone you wanted and hoped to make proud of you and be like them at the same time.

The reason why he "latched" onto the guy so much might have something to do with him knowing he wouldn't receive any sort of acceptance of his mutant self from his parents, but he got that and much more from Scott almost immediately after arriving at the mansion. The man offered him a friendly smile and support he had been desperately craving – that support he could only dream of at home.

All adults at the Mansion were fairly busy – either with the X-men business or with classes they taught, but that understanding and acceptance, that never disappeared, and Bobby never forgot who he received it from the most either.

He still visited the man’s grave to take strength from the source he always had been getting it from even if now it was only superficial and kind of empty, looking at it from rational point of view, since the body was never really found.

Dr. Grey returning only took a turn to go downhill soon after when she turned into a 'Phoenix', killing the Professor before dying herself, killed by Wolverine in return. He thought Pyro dead by then, too, what with all those people around them on Alcatraz disintegrating and then no word whatsoever about the fire-wielding mutant, and it was just too much. Too much of losing. Too many people he cared about dead. They might have won the battle on Alcatraz, avert an all-out war between the mutants and humankind, but at what cost.

Throughout it all he felt fairly alone while trying to help others to cope. What a joke. Well, it kept him busy at least and it helped him a bit, too, in the end. But it didn’t feel that way at all when they got back from there. No. All of that just fell onto him like a collapsed brick wall, finished off with a generous layer of concrete. It was suffocating. Dark. With no source of light or hope to draw another breath from. And he just needed help with coping. He needed the support he was supposed to generate and give himself.

That was the time when Kitty truly stepped in. Because as much as Rogue tried to help, she wasn't one of them anymore. She couldn't understand the feeling of guilt eating him up alive, because he was supposed to stop this. Any of this. He had the powers, after all. He could have. She didn't have them anymore, though, so she couldn't understand where he was coming from; not really. So, he spent more and more time with Kitty instead of with Rogue.

They talked. They talked a lot and it slowly began to help. Meanwhile, his relationship with Rogue deteriorated at about the same pace. Partly thanks to his absence in terms of being a proper boyfriend, possibly – or undoubtedly – even thanks to all that time spent with another girl, although they truly merely talked and at most leaned onto each other when things turned gloomy again.

His breakup with Rogue came as no surprise to anyone and him hooking up with Kitty later on didn’t probably either. It didn’t work out quite that well either, however, so in the end, they’ve decided to keep to their friendship instead and all luckily worked itself out in the end, at least relationship-wise.

Kitty was the first person he told he was gay to as well. Ever since they stopped dating, their talking sessions took turn for any and all inconsequential topic when need be, jumping onto anything at all instead of being skipped and the time spend with some other activity, something that would surely be more productive. It became sort of a routine that surprisingly brought positive results to both of them.

They began to relax more again, Kitty especially after the Professor got back and him… Well, when he returned from the mission devoted to capturing now human Mystique, let’s say they had a new topic to talk about. But while he “waxed poetic” about the mad dash to capture the ex-mutant, all his mind was capable of thinking was that John was alive – which was a chapter all of its own and better left alone unless he wanted to fall down the rabbit hole. The important part was, things were getting back to normal – something reminiscenting normal at least now. And he could finally breathe a bit again.

So there they were, him just going down the stairs with Kitty by his side, aiming for the main doors since they both had a craving for some unhealthy snack from a bistro in town when the said door opened on their own accord

In stormed… well, _Storm_ , almost passing by in a blur before, not long after, a strange raven-haired woman entered. Emerging from behind the door fully, he immediately noticed she was carrying a baby in her arms, but he didn’t catch much else since she, too, passed them by quite swiftly, somehow _fluidly_ , if not in any hurried manner, and right behind her was the Professor, presumably whisking their visitor off to his office.

Then he nearly stumbled on empty air where he expected a step to be, but he hardly noticed any of that because he just realized he recognizes the woman.

Mystique.

It was Mystique. Here. With a baby.

He almost didn’t connect the necessary dots since the new look, if stunning, was quite unremarkable coloring-wise, especially next to the previous version. It resulted in somewhat of a gray mouse vibe, someone utterly forgettable. Add in the baby and it throws quite a wrench at figuring out you’re faced with the infamous ex-shapeshifter.

He might have been on a mission to capture her, but she didn’t make any sort of impression on him other than the fact that she wore extra sharp heels either. Her new “unremarkable” look would easily earn her a clean slate if she didn’t have an apparent tendency to stick her nose into what she’d been used to stick it in still.

Finishing his trip down the stairs safely, all he wanted to do was to go and spy out what she had to say to the Professor and what was it about the baby, his and Kitty’s trip to the town completely forgotten now.

Until he looked around to check for anyone who might be watching him and encountered a trusting pair of brown eyes which were similarly set alight now like his must’ve been. She was ready to find out what this was about, too.

They were way past the age of spying on “their elders”, or at least attempting it since it’s been long found out that it’s hard to spy on most of the X-men for obvious reasons. They shouldn’t do it. It’s not like the Professor wouldn’t tell them if it was something important; he always did.

Her raised eyebrow asked a clear question before she simply grabbed his arm, sneaking out with him through the main doors. After all, this mission demanded an untraditional approach, one that would be hard to predict. Not to mention that Kitty had been found out several times already eavesdropping while using her ability.

Off to locate the window of the Professor’s office they were.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Look at the curveball delivered!
> 
> I won't lie. I had some serious trouble writing this one (not good with the whole Bobby's POV thing; had almost the whole thing written twice before making a major shuffle dance with the texts and this is basically the result) so feel free to let me know what would interest you to know from Bobby's side of seeing the events of X-men movies or just send constructive criticism; both are quite welcome.
> 
> Also, I'm beginning to put together another little original project of mine now (gaming themed), so, hopefully I'll see you all there, too. :) (once it's uploaded, that is, lol, which's gonna be when I'm done posting EoS)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this post's late. But I swear, I tried to do my best to get it uploaded at least in the nick of time.

 

They knew exactly where to look for, but still, it took them a while to get there. Keeping silent the whole way over, or at least as silent as it could get, they appeared to stay unnoticed by anyone so far. When they were approaching their destination, Kitty gave a silent sign to ‘stop’, military style, when the window entered their field of vision. Slinking to the wall in question the window was mounted on, she hugged it before becoming one with the thing the very next second. He had no idea if she in fact used her ability to be completely literal about it or if she was just that good at blending in with her surroundings, but he’d put his money on the latter, since the former was the reason why they took such a detour and went the whole way around in the first place.

The window was luckily halfway open and although he could hear some voices, they were nearly indistinguishable (apart from the fact that one was male and the other female) and the exact words were impossible to catch altogether from where he was standing. As if on cue, Kitty signaled to him to crouch even lower and follow to where she was. And while he still couldn’t believe what they were actually doing, he drew closer all the same.

“And what about the child?” He heard Professor ask as clear as day just then.

“She’s going to be a part of the deal, too.” Professor and Mystique were already half-way into the conversation; that much he could gather.

“So, you’re going to share with us what you’ve found out in exchange for…?”

“For sharing any and all information you manage to get with help of the one’s I’m going to pass over to you and our safety. Mine and hers. Namely, immunity and the right to stay until I choose otherwise.” The low-pitched, smooth-as-steel voice was decisive, and it cut straight to the point with no detours whatsoever.

“How can I know the information will be worth it? You’re a fugitive that government searches all over for, after all. Your presence would put my students in great danger. I can’t let you stay indefinitely.” Was the Professor really seriously considering it? What was it that he though Mystique might have been able to get her hands on at the Trusk Industries? How much was it worth? It was one thing to send a couple of X-men to capture her in order to question her, it was a whole another deal what was happening now.

“You don’t, you know it’s not my presence that’s the real problem and I’m only asking for a year tops. Quite a lot less than your retro animal project.” _What? Who?_ And was she serious to come here to look for a deal with them not really offering anything? What he meant was, there was no guarantee that she really knew anything useful, so far, not even one detail was offered up as a sample, as a proof to barter with. That was one hell of confidence. And calm to go with an insult at the same time.

The Professor didn’t take the bait.

“Who exactly is she?” Neither he, nor Kitty dared to look over the edge of the sill out of fear of being spotted; it was more than risky enough that they were even here, considering the ability of the seasoned mutant involved. Thanks to that, they had no way of knowing what sort of expression either of the two room occupants currently sported, but it was safe to say they had a pretty good idea, since the voice tones sounding through the air worked quite well as a mirror.

“Not your business.” It was an invisible fight of wills right there. Mystique was obviously determined not to give up any information, and Professor? Well, he seemed to be his patient self; on a crusade that could take ages but _would_ yield some fruits in the end. Persistence in its finest.

“It is mine, however, if I am to shelter and protect her, Raven.” He always wondered what could be such a bottomless source of calm and how one could find that level of inner tranquility. He was probably way too instinctive to achieve it anyway, though, so it was ages ago that he decided he’ll rather go along what he was born and gifted with, hoping that hard work and winging the rest of it would be enough.

“It’s Mystique.” The placidity of the correction would be a serious rival to the one of the Professor, but clearly, the ‘Raven’ nickname didn’t please the woman.

“I know you.”

“It’s _Mystique_.” Brusque reaction for something so trivial and yet... Sharing a look with Kitty, it was clear she had no idea what this was about either. He could liken it only to John pushing somebody’s buttons – real well, but at the same time, it was somehow something else, too. But that’s not what they were here for and apparently neither the Professor, because with the next question, it was evident, he let that one go in favor of getting back to the bone of the matter at hand:

“Who is she?” While still composed and collected, Charles Xavier was relentless. Mystique must’ve realized that she’s really not getting out of this one, because her answer took some time before resounding through the room.

“She’s John Allerdyce’s sister.”

_What?!_

He exchanged a furtive look with Kitty, whose eyes spoke exactly the same. Shock stared right at him and they were probably lucky that this wasn’t any of those comics where an ill-timed gasp of surprise revealed one’s location. They were actually able to hold any sort of audible reaction in and then, the Professor was luckily speaking again.

“I wasn’t aware of any such addition to the family.”

Kitty continuing in their silent eye conversation presumably wanted to know if _he_ had any idea. Shaking his head in answer, because he honestly didn’t have a clue since all John ever told him was very little and it mentioned only the time before he fled from there, he latched onto the next words spoken, hungry for more information:

“Her parents kept it hush hush since she turned out to be a mutant, too. An early bloomer.”

“The mutant gene is passed on by males, not females.” That one, he knew what it was about. John’s father was, indeed, out of the picture. He wasn’t sure to what extent, whether he was dead or just left, but he certainly wasn’t in the picture when John’s mother decided to move them to America. Some kind of father-esque figure was in the household later on, though – not sure if stepfather by law, but there was someone, although again, John never given any specifics. It was all more of a feeling, really. But there definitely must’ve been someone now since, hey, a baby.

“Feel free to congratulate Mrs. Allerdyce for great picks, then.” The more he listened to the dialogue, straining his ears for any signs of anything more than he usually did, the more he realized how alike the woman and the Professor were, yet completely different. While, in the beginning, he saw them only for their differences, now he could pinpoint the similarities, too.

They both tempered their attitude with generous amounts of selfcontrol, but while Professor was predictably coolheaded by nature, Mystique was someone temperamental. Both were only employing methods – whichever those were – of keeping their tempers (or telepathy in Professor’s case) in check, but in her case, it was fairly harder, since the rudiments were more on an aggressive side, Allowing for her sarcastic steak to survive even in hostile territory of being “zen”.

Or maybe that was just all out wrong assumption – he was known to made those, too.

“How did she end up with you then?” He – and by extension Kitty probably, too – could hear the characteristic sound of the wheelchair moving from the spot – not closer to the window but not further away either.

“The mother contacted Pyro, basically shoving her his way.”

“Curious,” The professor mused, picking his next words without a rush. “Getting back in contact with her after so many years?” He was clearly speaking about John and yeah, coming to think of that, it _was_ pretty weird. John usually avoided any talk about his parents if he could help it and he never sounded fond when he couldn’t.

“I agreed to share information about Trusk Industries.” _Exclusively_ , her tone added to the sentence.

“One might think you’re hiding something.” It was tough drawing a full picture without visual. Without it, all the conversation was were even, self-possessed tones next to sharp and cold ones. There was no body language to read which he was coming to realize, he relied on a lot, to the point of being dependant on it. Bodies revealed volumes and right now, he was missing any of those give-away signs badly.

“I am hiding a lot. Every information can be used, be valuable to someone.”

“I’d like to know.” He could almost taste in the atmosphere flowing out of the room through that single window that the Professor was pushing against something.

“No.” Something unshakable.

“Even if our deal would fall through because of that?”

 _Unbreakable, too, it seemed_ , he thought as tense silence fell over the room for quite some time before-

“Would you mind joining us, Bobby?”

_Oh fuck._

He probably had a deer caught in headlights kind of look on his face, because he definitely didn’t expect _this_ continuation of the conversation. How? Well… dumb question, of course.

Professor clearly knew he was there. The tone he used to ask the question… that was pure knowledge. The only saving grace was, the voice stayed its polite self, but he wasn’t as naïve as to thin that would absolve him of ramifications. There _will_ be consequences.

 “Sure. Uh, right away,” he answered, half mumbling, too, because he still felt kind of bummed, yet he couldn’t risk giving a tardy response, otherwise the Professor might feel the need to check whether he was here alone. There was no need for more people under the bus.

He waved his hand blandly for there to appear an icy staircase leading to the office’s window. He truly felt like a little kid caught after breaking the neighbor’s window and now, he felt silly for even doing this, succumbing to his curiosity that he usually had a good hold of. And now he was a disappointment.

Arriving at the top of the stairs, he jumped the rest of the way down off the windowsill into the office, before the Professor added fluidly:

“And you, too, Miss Pryde. Please.”

Goddammit.

He managed to resist closing his eyes in defeat or even sighing. Instead, he offered Kitty a hand to grab onto when mounting the stairs, too. It would be way too disrespectful to barge in through the walls. Well, more that their found-out spying already was.

She accepted it with a grateful if awkwardly apologetic smile, which was understandable since not everyone had a great affinity or relationship with slippery surfaces and considering she probably felt this was her fault. _That_ was ridiculous since the initial, actual first step of their prying routine might have been her work, but the idea certainly wasn’t. That is, the thought occurred to them both, she only acted faster on it. But it didn’t really matter now.

Before too long, she stood at his side by the window, _inside_ the room with the Professor and Mystique opposite to them. The Professor behind his table and Mystique standing infront of it, completely ignoring the chairs which must’ve been offered to her prior to their arrival, since Charles Xavier was next to his ability also known for his manners.

“Bobby, would you and Miss Pryde mind carrying young miss Allerdyce to the infirmary for a general checkup? I believe me and my honorary guest have a deal bit more to talk through.

“S-sure. Of course.” Piped Kitty in turn.

 _John really had a sister._ He still couldn’t quite get over the revelation, although he heard the news quite a bit ago. But then, the shock was largely mitigated by their stealth routine and hoping for nicking even more information.

"I think not.” That was Mystique, stating her clear disagreement with such course of action. “Not before I have your word. Do we have a deal?”

The Professor inclined his head a bit, meeting Mystique’s eyes before giving his answer:

“I believe we do, yes. Now, if you’d allow…?” It was a cue for Mystique, easy to read, to pass the bundle over and if he was to be honest, he fully expected Kitty to readily go over and handle their part of the procedure. Girls tended to be crazy about getting to do that, holding and cooing at a baby, right? It wasn’t some kind of a misogynistic, gender-role prude in him speaking, they just loved to do it, right? At least he operated under that honest belief.

But Kitty stayed where she stood, and although they were the identical distance away from Mystique, it still felt like she was way back behind him than he was at that moment. Checking what was up, he saw her utterly frozen in place, eyes as wide as saucers for whatever reason, so he just mentally shrugged his shoulders and made the necessary steps forward himself.

He reached with his arms over, to take the baby wrapped in evidently soft, pastel green blanket from her only for the baby to escape those limbs as Mystique took a step back.

“Make sure she stays unharmed.”

“We’re not monsters.” It wasn’t his intention to sound self-righteous and luckily, his voice chords did listen to what he actually wanted to convey, instead of giving that holier-than-thou vibe. He was quite proud of how it came out, but Mystique quashed that feeling of accomplishment in one second flat.

“Everyone says that before turning into one.”

And he didn’t know why it was so important to him right here right then; after all, what did her opinion matter, but he was determined to prove her wrong about that all the same.

“She stays unharmed. I give you my word… _Mystique_.” So yeah, maybe he was still a bit bitter about her heels. It certainly wasn’t in any way an attempt to ingratiate himself to the woman, but at the same time, in a strange sense and even stranger way, he hoped she’d take his words more seriously if he did the same.

She was one of the bad guys, but in the past months, he developed a high ~~weakness~~ sense of not condemning some of them just for that difference alone. And anyway, they were talking about a baby here. It was the surest, easiest thing he could promise to the “enemy” side.

“You did ask me to take care of her,” Professor added his own bit.

And whether it was Professor or his own words, some of it must’ve truly work, because Mystique actually did pass him the baby over a bit later.

Mystique was reluctant to do that, but that could have many explanations, her having many reasons for that. Like not trusting a guy enough not to drop the bundle. But instead of pondering about many more, he took over from her as soon as she gave him the space. When he was younger, he did some babysitting and surprisingly, his limbs remembered the right positioning quite quickly.

Stealing a glance down at the almost frighteningly small and sound asleep girl, he recognized first few Allerdyce trademarks. At least he presumed they were family trademarks since they sure as hell were a carbon copy of John’s own looks. She had her brother’s hair and he’d bet that mouth must definitely be inherited from their mother because it was identical to John’s; there was no way of it being otherwise.

It felt unexpectedly good to have these familiar features so close to him, to see them again.

“I’ll come by to get her in a bit.”

Right. Fuck.

He mentally shook off the fog that surrounded him for a moment and catching him off guard before meeting the eyes of the ex-mutant before him.

He gave a mere nod in silent acknowledgement before looking Professor’s way and after getting an almost imperceptible nod from him in turn, he joined Kitty on her way to the door.

“Oh!” They were almost out the door when he remembered, “And her name?”

“It’s _Elemental_.” At what must have been their pinched, disbelieving looks, she conceded another bit of information, clearly deemed as unimportant enough and not considered any sort of a game-changer, utterly emotionless: “Erik named her.”

Sure. Whatever. That guy was weird and radical enough to do that.

“If you’ll excuse us,” The Professor interrupted any further conversation and he clearly recognized it for their cue to leave.

_You, Miss Pryde and I will talk later._

And just like that, he got briefly reminded that there’s going to be a discussion of their trespassing of another’s privacy. Hoping that it would be otherwise was pointless to begin with since the Professor had too much of a great memory for that to happen. However, for now, all of them had things to do, sort through and deal with.

Looking up from the small, feather-light bundle in his arms, he gave a short nod of his own before leaving the room with Kitty having his back as usual.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's uploaded another part in time!

 

 

When Kitty had started to wonder which infirmary should they try first in search of professor McCoy, the decision was easy. He knew for a fact that Dr. McCoy would be currently in the X-men infirmary instead of the regular one on the grand floor for students, because he heard him mentioning having to run some tests “downstairs” earlier in the day, so underground it was.

It wasn’t exactly a rushed tempo that they decided to employ, but it wasn’t a slow one either. Somehow, getting caught by a crowd of teenagers just exiting their classes, carrying a baby wasn’t something either of them seemed willing to experience. For several reasons. In his case it was because he could imagine what hell would rise when others found out this is John’s – _the traitor’s_ – sister. And the question about who she is _would_ come.

It wasn’t that he thought they would actually hurt her – but they probably wouldn’t be much nice either. In these few minutes it took them to leave the office and get well on their way, he became strangely protective of the small bundle to allow that. Because it wasn’t her fault. None of it. Also, it, this, reminded him a bit of him and Ronny when they were little; him being the older, protective brother, making sure nothing would happen to his baby bro, too. Guess he had the instinct ingrained in him since day one.

As for Kitty, whatever her reason was, she seemed to be on the same boat with him in regard to any witnesses. Therefore, the best course of action was to leg it to the elevator as fast as possible and he didn’t have a single doubt that if the rooms preceding it weren’t classrooms, she’d gladly drag them through the walls as well, just to get there even faster. As it was, they were walking through the empty halls, hearing the faint, muted conversations happening behind the walls, inside the classrooms they passed by.

 “Doesn’t seem like an Allerdyce, huh? I mean, she’s quiet.” Halfway to the elevator, Kitty finally spoke, and he was honestly surprised it didn’t happen sooner. He noticed her furtive and repeated glances, her looking over, obviously curious about the small traveler he was holding and still, up to that point, she didn’t say anything. Her words now struck him as an odd thing to say, though.

“She’s sleeping.” Not to mention that he didn’t remember John being noisy – aside from that lighter of his. Sure, opinionated, not afraid to say what he thought; that was him. But even then, not all of such cases made it outside their room. John didn’t bother saying a single word when he knew it won’t change anything. When he instigated some kind of conflict – _that_ was loud, but not necessarily John himself. He, in fact, stayed mostly silent, contrary to what seemed to be the popular notion, which was mainly the work of the others simply not getting to know the real John. Not that many people liked him because he was constantly attempting to piss them all off – _and_ succeeding. Man, did the guy know their buttons. So, okay, Kitty saying John was a handful or whatever the comment was supposed to mean exactly now? Completely understandable, when one thinks about it. John was just… complicated.

And he should really stop thinking about him. But it was kind of hard to do that when he’s holding the guy’s sibling. It was exactly that kind of coincidences that didn’t care about what you oughed to do or not. Like he hadn’t thought about him enough already…

The following sigh that escaped his lips was entirely unintentional.

“What?” And of course that Kitty would notice and _pry_. She was way too curious to let something be.

- _To_ _unhook her claws_ , a familiar voice remarked.

A virtue of hers, as she loved to retort whenever someone pointed it out outright or teased her about it.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?” Yeah. Hoping that that answer would absolve him of having to answer her was a silly notion. For how much he appreciated and even genuinely enjoyed their conversations in the past, right now their history apparently came to bite him in the ass.

They did talk about a lot of things and John was one of the topics as well; him leaving them to join Magneto, the face off Bobby had with him on Alcatraz. But he omitted some parts as well. Like seeing John in Washington. Or the other side of him and John. That unexpected stumbling on each other by that hospital felt like a part of that, _was_ a part of that; part of them being more than roommates. And that capture mission not that long ago… that was definitely something he didn’t want anyone to stick their nose in. Because he lost there. Because he hoped…

He shook the memory off, rather deciding to focus on the present. Looking back at her, he noticed that she was still waiting for his answer. Damn. So much for getting far from that one.

“What could Magneto want with a baby?” He fired the first question that came to mind and sounded as a good enough cover.

He might have had told her, sort of confide in her, that he’s gay, but that was no reason to tell her _everything_. He didn’t need anyone judging what was between John and him, what they’ve had. First, it was enough of a mess as it was; second, it was unnecessary and even more pointless to bring any of it up or mention it since he blew it completely, and third, it was no-one’s business anyway. As much as he enjoyed the company here and liked the people around him, he knew for a fact that anyone from here, from the Mansion _would_ judge, intentionally or not. Kitty included.

Kitty proved to be a great friend, he liked her a lot, but she simply wouldn’t understand. She would side with the general opinion on this, too. And what would that be? Most probably that all of these feelings oughed to be long gone by now, dead. But instead, they were stubbornly refusing to budge like the person they were about was known to do. He couldn’t change _that_. John was like fire in that aspect – all-consuming. He fought against it before and look how that worked out for him – two ruined “normal” relationship attempts and one more as a bonus on top, one that truly mattered, which he abandoned and ignored the first opportunity he got.

So would he mind them knowing so much? Yes and no. In the past, he would be pretty uncomfortable with being laid bare in such way infront of them, infront of anyone and everyone, really, and that was a pretty mild way to say it considering his previous denial and fight for being something he wasn’t to begin with. But after telling Kitty, the wave of relief that hit him when she understood and accepted it in the way one did an ordinary, _not-wrong_ thing, an enormous weight of years’ worth of hiding dropped off his chest. It made it easier to come to terms with it. All of it. And finally, the enormous pressure from before started to crack and dissipate until it disappeared altogether over time.

He had no idea if others knew, but they had to at least suspect, he guessed, by now. After all, what sort of guy passes up on girls like Rogue and Kitty? Whether they put two and two together or not, everyone still behaved the same way, treated him the same, too. So if they did know, he presumed nobody really cared and honestly, he was glad and more than fine with it.

That couldn’t be said about others meddling into _them_. That part was only his. His to keep, his to suffer through whenever remembering, his to protect. As far as others knew, he and John were just good mates, friends that ended up on opposing sides. It should stay that way.

“Maybe another Conversion machine?” As luck would have it, unbeknownst to Kitty, she offered up the best diversion from that topic possible; the simplest, genuine reaction to his made-up lie was enough. Shoving remorse and previous thoughts to the very back of his mind, he gladly went along with it.

“Rogue was his best shot and she’s out now. And he never tries one thing twice. It must me something else.” Kitty gave a thoughtful nod before offering another option.

“She’s powerful?” A deliberately obvious glance his way at his chest level was a clear indication of who she was talking about.

“Wouldn’t professor say something? Not to mention, would Mystique, human Mystique manage to get her hands on her if she was that important to Magneto?” The sentence had way too many ‘her’s in it, but he couldn’t bring himself to call a baby something like _Elemental_. That was just plain cold, a striking contrary to the word’s very meaning.

“He might not know for sure. Maybe that’s why he’s sending us to bring her over to Dr. McCoy for the ‘checkup’,” The air quotes in her tone were easy to spot and what she was trying to relay with that as well. “And as for Mystique, she could’ve done that before she got turned into human?”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure about that. That is, if it would add up age-wise. Just by how tiny the body he was holding was, he wouldn’t be going around with such generous thoughts about her age. On the other hand, he had no idea whatsoever how to guess kids age. Well, no, kids were easy to guess and sort into age groups for him, what with the influx of them here at the mansion each year, but babies… He had no practical experience with that, with them, so really, what did he know. He had to concede – partially:

“In the end, we’ll find out it wasn’t the prisoner transport guard who shot her but Magneto himself. And it’s a checkup.” Plain old regular one. Well, regular for mutants – which still equaled basically the “human” one with only a few more things to check for.

Finally arriving and stopping infront of the panel that hid the elevator, Kitty promptly did the honors of activating it before they both stepped in. With a quiet _swish_ of the sliding panel closing behind them, the small capsule with its cargo of three started to descend.

“Wouldn’t he if she’d really done it? He’s Magneto.” She asked next while leaning over a bit to take a closer look at John’s sister, apparently having gathered enough courage to let her curiosity get the better of her, studying the sleeping bundle for a moment before straightening back up again.

“She should have a real name.” He knew exactly what she meant. ‘Elemental’ might be admittedly pretty cool for a grown-up mutant superhero (or a supervillain, considering who named her), but for a baby, it was quite a poor choice. It sounded insubstantial and shallow, lacking any deeper meaning, rendering the name into something of no importance.

He was genuinely surprised John agreed with it. Well, it’s not like he knew John was big on names or anything, but come on, who would let their sister be named ‘Elemental’? But then again, people do name their daughters ‘Ruby’ for example, too. A precious commodity, true, but still just a rock. And he got a bit off topic with this one.

In his opinion, the whole thing with whether Mystique stole John’s sister from Magneto or not was a moot point altogether since it could be a false assumption as well as truth, though. He said the very thing, too.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what else he’s capable of than what we’ve already seen. But back on our way to Alkali lake he and Mystique seemed as thick as thieves. He obviously trusted her and relied on her a lot. It’s hard to guess if he would truly shoot her.” Then, he couldn’t help but add: “She has a name. It’s just a clunky one.”

“What about a nickname then?” The interest she showed spoke a lot in favor of the bundle he was carrying. If she had more, _enough_ people to protect her from the potential malice of others once they are told who she is… He had to double check first, though. Find out what side she was standing on.

“Warming up to her already?” Why everything reminded him of a battlefield, lately? He couldn’t even relax in the mansion; not really, not fully. The reminder of keeping constant vigilance in case something would hit, the need to check everyone was alright, making sure no serious infighting and preventing it if he could help it, kept him on his toes and way too tense for any real rest to have chance to happen.

True, he always had such tendencies – to care for others, he guessed. Be it his classmates, friends or the younger kids that he was merely meeting in the halls. It was something he just… did. Hardly anything special. But this… This was a different kind of feeling; this need no assure himself everyone’s fine. Because there was no sort of tension in the years before – well, at least not like this one.

The closest he could get to describing it was feeling like something’s about to happen and he had to be ready for it. He was well-aware of how ridiculous that thought was, but it wasn’t like he could just stop feeling it. He had no idea when it started either, only that it lasted at least several days already since he noticed, and still kicking strong.

It wasn’t the best kind of feeling to have when at the presumably safest place he could be at, where he should be able to let his guard down. But everything became warped and twisted in the last year, even more so in the last months, so this wasn’t such a surprise. It was weird feeling it twenty-four seven even around the closest people to him still, though.

“Nobody deserves to be called ‘Elemental’ at her age.” Kitty’s voice pulled him back out of the spinning thoughts that could only go downhill from there before she interrupted the joyride.

He had to agree with Kitty. ‘Elemental’ was truly a heavy one to bear. Not to mention that ponderings about a name were a much better choice that drowning in the kind of thoughts he had before. He gladly switched to that, letting the strange uneasy feeling slither over to cower somewhere in the corner in the background again. A nickname, huh?

_Elemental E-le-men-tal Ele…men…tal Element…al…_

“Ele sounds quite nice.” Kitty added thoughtfully after a while and in time with the elevator doors sliding open again, letting them step out into the underground section of the mansion. As they begain their short journey to the infirmary, he couldn’t help but think it sounded like the name of that magazine girls here loved to stick their heads in and leave them there, too. This called for a diplomatic approach, though.

“Maybe she wouldn’t want to be a princess, but a little tomboy instead. She _is_ John’s sister,” He could go ahead and point this fact out to her without any apprehension since Kitty already knew anyway. “How about something more neutral?”

“Like?” Uh-oh. He’s not touching that one. That tone spoke of danger hanging overhead.

“I don’t know,” Deflect was what he needed to do right now, so he shrugged his shoulders for a good measure, too, “What about what Mystique said, though?”

Kitty either didn’t notice or she simply accepted the return back to the original topic since it was much more important one. He personally was just glad it worked. Girls could be scary.

“Sounded valid to me. You know, it all makes sense. She’s trying to seek safety where she can actually get it, what with Erik Lehnsherr disappearing right under the government’s nose and the word going around about Magneto being back. She’s human and he’ll definitely want a revenge on her since she was the one who leaked all the information about his hideouts and whatnot. The only piece she can barter with are the information about Trusk Industries. But…”

That wasn’t all Mystique mentioned, but he guessed it was better leaving Kitty focused on the main matter alone. Pointing and directing her towards… well, _anything else_ would be to the detriment of what he was trying to keep hidden. With Mystique here, though, the person he saw John last with, with his sister in his arms, with all the thoughts resurfacing even stronger than ever before, he felt a desperate need of someone he could talk about John to, though. Mystique clearly knew more. Even just a bit, just a hint would maybe help him find John… Did he managed to meet up with Mystique again after the chase in the city? Was he alright?

_“Going soft on me, Iceman?” John spared him a glance from underneath his fringe before turning his attention back to the matter at hand._

_“Is it bad?” Maybe the secret sparring session wasn’t such a great idea. Controlled environment was better, safer; they should’ve told Scott Summers, ask him if he could watch over-_

_“It’s just a scratch, no need to be melting. It was a good hit.”_

Stop.

“But?” Forcing the memory back, he continued where Kitty left off, encouraging her to finish the thought. Clearly, there was something nagging at her, a reason for her obvious hesitancy. And he needed to focus.

“She could be lying, too.” Was what the petite brunette said in reply as they entered the infirmary at long last.

He expected the large, burly man and his thunder of a welcoming voice the moment they stepped in, but instead, they found the room abandoned, with no telltale coat of cerulean hue in sight.

Dr. McCoy wasn’t here. But taking in the work unfolded – well, more like scattered over the work benches – they both briefly examined, it was safe to presume he’s going to come back sooner or later. Looking down, checking on his passenger to find she’s still out like a light, he held high hopes that they could afford the wait. He honestly had no idea how to go about a crying baby and as far as he heard, there’s lot of crying overall when they’re involved. He’d bet that the new environment and unfamiliar faces won’t be any consolation either – more like all the more reason to ramp it up.

Thankfully they weren’t in danger of that happening, not now at least, so there was that, but he was painfully aware that he got distracted by checking on her and he oughed to come up with some sort of reaction to the lying discussion sometime about now. There was no reason for them to leave their conversation unfinished after all, since they’d be merely kicking their butts here otherwise. But having spent the time on checking on the baby instead, he went with the simplest of reactions of them all, hopefully not sounding as distracted as he’d been. Waiting until Kitty took one of the two empty and therefore available chairs and leaning on a wall himself, he then went ahead and merely asked:

“About?”

“Anything? Everything?” She shrugged her shoulders before making a half spin on her rolling chair, clearly not knowing what else to do, bored already. She was as impatient as John used to be. _Perfect_ , the sarcasm countered which was no better.

“As if there’s not enough variables even without that option already.” His state of mind clearly showed through the words that left his mouth this time around and it was just mere coincidence that the mild exasperation and the cause of it could be interpreted entirely falsely and still sound valid.

So, the question was, as for the lying, would she? Of course that Mystique would, but what exactly was it that was worth lying for if she truly did? What part of what she said would be the false part? Would she do that only to mess with them or in order to hide something? What?

It must be a pretty similar list of questions running through Kitty’s head, too, because before not too long, she let out a commiserating sigh.

“I guess we’ll never know, huh?”

“If we are, we’ll have to wait for it.” He strained his ears to catch any sort of sound signalizing someone – preferably Dr. McCoy – is coming, but so far, no such luck.

“I can wait. I just hope it won’t come biting us in the butt sooner.” Suddenly, Kitty checked her phone before jumping up, cursing:

“Oh shit. This took longer than I thought. I gotta go.” He straightened up as well, mildly curious.

“Plans?”

“Just… Meeting up with Piotr.” She explained hesitantly and if that wasn’t clue enough, her addition was, “For training.” And that blush was for training, too, for sure. The thing was, you never have to explain further like that unless you’re trying to cover up for something.

He was glad for her. On the outside he kept an ignorant look on his face, though.

“Don’t let our failed stealth mission hold you up then. I’ll manage it from here,” He went over and nudged her in the direction of the sliding doors leading out of the infirmary.

“Hey,” he called after her when she was almost through the door, “Would you remind him about the group movie night happening tonight? He can’t possibly spend every Thursday evening drawing stuff. He should join from time to time; guys are starting to get suspicious that he’s avoiding them. You know they’re a good bunch.”

She gave him a warm smile which counted as a promise of a positive response before it even came.

“Sure. See you there.”

Then she left and he kept standing there, waiting for Dr. McCoy to reappear. Looking back down again, he mused aloud:

“So… It’s just me and you here now, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I'm not trying to make you guys like Bobby, not necessarily. It's just for an explanation of his circumstances like I explained with Pyro. Mind you, I admit, I entirely failed at connecting with Bobby (contrary to Pyro), but I did and still do try; to be fair and to keep them equal.


End file.
